


Scraps of Starlight

by Lavender_chan



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Gen, Junkerat | Jamison Fawkes/Mei-Ling Zhou (Meihem), Language, M/M, Minor Character Death, Possible Reaper | Gabriel Reyes/Moira???, Possible Reinhardt/Hanzo (Reinzo), Violence, Will add more warnings as they pop up, idk yet, strong themes, suggestions welcome but may be not be added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-03-01 09:44:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 39
Words: 58,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13292205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_chan/pseuds/Lavender_chan
Summary: On paper, you never existed. Yes, certain people could recall you; you had a life, before all of this. However, these people weren’t close to you. They all assumed you retired from Competitive Dancing and imagine you live a quiet life.They were wrong, of course. You are now the ‘Asset’; an experiment 5 years in the making, a living ghost that Talon wiped from the system--no one was looking for you, now. You’re ready to take your freedom back, but you’ll have to fight tooth-and-nail for it; Talon would never let someone like you, someone with your skill set, go so easily. But how are you going to do it? And what are these new abilities that have been sewn into your mind?//Set close to the time Overwatch was reformed//Arc 1 "Captivity": Ch. 1-16Arc 2 "On the Run": Ch. 17-34Arc 3 "Overwatch": Ch. 35-??





	1. Prologue

_“I don’t agree with it, we’re not doing it,” Mako growled, his huge fist slamming onto the table, “Messing with an Omnic Core that big will only spell trouble.”_

_The leader of the rebels straightened her back and glared up at the larger man, “We’re doing it, with or without you, Mako. I thought your family meant more to you than that.”_

_It was a low blow, one that made the larger man growl in anger, but he didn’t protest again. His family? They were dead and gone now; all that was left was the anger in his chest, and the hatred for both government and omnic alike. The point of rebelling had been to try and take their land back, try to get some semblance of life back, but the more and more they fought, the more and more they realized that it wasn’t going to happen._

_So this is what it's come to. Mako stepped away from the table, backing down. The woman nodded as if to confirm what she already knew before she turned to the large group that had gathered._

_“Those omnic scum will pay!” There was a cheer._

_“The government that stole from us will pay!” A louder cheer went up._

_“Today, we take back our land; we take back our liberty! And we teach everyone what happens when you mess with Aussies!”_

_The cheer that went up made the ground and walls vibrate, but Mako just shook his head and stepped further back. They wouldn’t want him messing with the Core--he’d likely be out causing some sort of distraction, miles from where their fearless leader would be making her mistakes._

_And their world would burn._

~*~

Mako grunted awake, slow deep breaths moving his chest and large belly as he sat up, a chill on his skin because of where they were.

Gibraltar was cold compared to his home. Everywhere was cold compared to his home, with few exceptions, but they had been confined to this base for the past month, thanks to the little contract his employer had decided to take from Overwatch. Mako almost laughed.

The organization was a joke. They were a joke 30 years ago, and they were a joke now; only now, they were an illegal joke, the kind that make Jamison laugh until he couldn’t breathe. So now they were with the newly reformed--and newly illegal--Overwatch.

Mako’s eyes turned over toward the window and saw the early haze of morning start to color the sky--he was up and awake now; there was no point to try and go back to sleep.

~*~

You darted past a sparsely populated street, and then down another street. Your lungs burned, but you didn't dare stop or look back. Too much was riding on you escaping, too much…

A whistle sounded behind you and you nearly tripped over your own feet in fear.

“Stop! You can't get away!”

You just needed to get a little farther…

A team of soldiers suddenly turned the corner in front of you and you had to skid to a stop before you could dart down a side street. People watched with apathetic interest--the people of this small city had long learned to let Talon have their way; you'd find no help among the populous.

You just had to reach the canal-

A sound like a dry pop happened behind you and you glanced back just in time to see a weighted net overtake you and drag you to the ground.

“Subject has been captured, repeat, subject has been caught and will be returned shortly,” You heard a muffled voice of one of the soldiers.

You struggled, and pushed at the netting, but it only seemed to get tighter around you. Tears of frustration burned in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You had been so close…

A boot suddenly connected to your back and you cried out in pain.

“Little bitch, I'm getting tired of doing this every few weeks,” One of the soldiers spat and you flinched as you felt something wet hit your leg, “Next time, I'm not even gonna hesitate to break your pretty legs-”

“Can it, Huxley,” The leader of the group snapped, “You touch her and Ruesso will take it out in your hide.”

“Yes, sir,” Huxley stepped back.

“As for you, precious,” The leader snarled at you, kneeling down and yanking at the net so your face was brought closer to his mask, “Ruesso isn't always going to be protecting you; think about _that_.”

You whimpered and tried to pull back, but the net just wrapped tighter around you. The leader let go suddenly and you fell back unceremoniously onto the ground. You swallowed and tried to scoot away, but two of the soldiers were already taking up the edges of the net and dragging you back through town.

The streets were still as sparse, the people still as apathetic, with a single exception.

A man dressed in a hoodie held up a phone, no doubt recording what was going on. You quickly reached an arm out through the next, wincing as it cut into your forearm.

“Send help! Help me!” You cried, trying to struggle so you could turn in your confinement, “Please! _Please!_ ”

One of the soldiers carrying you kicked your side and you cried out.

“Shut that pretty mouth; no one's coming for you.”

You desperately wanted him to be wrong, but as you tried to focus on the man again, you saw him casually tuck his phone away and turn without even focusing on you once. Then he was gone.

“No...No!” You felt tears burn your eyes again and a sharp spark hit the back of your head, “ _No!_ Let me go! LET ME GO!”

Another spark hit the back of your head and actually caught the attention of one of the men carrying you, “Uhh...Commander?”

You struggled and kicked, and while no one was paying attention, an old OR15 model Omnic, one that looked like it should never have worked again, started to tremble and move from it's decaying place in a nearby alleyway.

“LET GO, LET ME GO!”

“Shut her up!” The commander started toward you, but froze as the omnic stumbled into sight, “Contact, contact, she's using her abilities!”

“HoW mAy I-i-I bE oF a-A-assistan-- _whirr, pop_ \--a-A-a-Assisstance? A-a-A-assistance?” The omnic could barely talk, and it kept stumbling over the legs it was missing, but it was still approaching and still warming up the gun on its arm.

“Take down the omnic! Get the tranqs for that bitch!” The commander was barking orders and the civilians on the streets were screaming and running, not wanting to be part of a firefight between Talon and the horrifying shell of an omnivore that has risen from what anyone would have thought a permanent death.

You struggled, even as the soldiers opened fire on the omnic, even as they held you down. You screamed and felt another spark at the back of your head; you smelled burning hair. Then, you felt the pain of a needle in your thigh and you tried to fight harder.

But darkness was already taking your vision. The omnic became sluggish. Talon’s bullets began to tear it to pieces. Then, you knew nothing.


	2. Level With Me

“You cannot keep allowing the asset to continue these escape attempts,” Maximilien spoke calmly over the video call, his metallic fingers tapping slowly in a rhythm-- _thmp-thmp-thmpthmp, thmp-thmp-thmpthmp._

Moira grit her teeth, “You have dumped me in some backwards city south of Numbani with no resources other than an old man with an indiscrete hard-on for the asset--don’t talk to me about escape attempts unless you’d like to actually give me real security guards and not these Talon dropouts.”

While her frustration was clear--Moira O'Deorain was never one to mince words--she at least kept her tone somewhat civil; contrary to what she felt, of course.

“It’s possible we may have to schedule her calming procedure sooner than expected,” Maximilien pondered out loud; his fingered steepled automatically and the repetitive tapping finally stopped.

“It may be wise anyway; the asset showed some signs of success,” Moira reported smoothly, “She brought an old OR15 model that was nearly a husk back to life while she was being recaptured.”

Maximilien leaned forward, suddenly interested, “Success...you're sure?”

Moira nodded, “All of our operatives confirmed it; there was also evidence that Ruesso’s chip nearly overloaded. The asset had burned hair around the chip’s insertion panel behind her ear.”

“I will leave the rest to you, O’Deorain,” Maximilien leaned back in his chair again, “I will speak with Akande about the other problems you've been facing.”

“I hope so,” Moira crossed her arms, “Progress will remain slow if we have to stop everything every few weeks because we can't keep one little girl trapped in a warehouse.”

Moira terminated the call first, but Maximilien sat and stared at the screen for a long while after.

Success. There had been quiet talk that this particular project would never see the word, let alone achieve it; but to think, actual success…

It almost seemed a shame to neutralize the asset’s emotions and will...if there was just a way to convince her that their way was the best option…

“Perhaps…” Maximilien found himself saying quietly, “We can find a way for the asset to be of use, even if she escapes...”

He chuckled darkly and began bringing up the contact information for Akande.

~*~

You rubbed your head again, the uneven stubble of your hair distracting you from the darker thoughts you wanted to let overtake your mind. Your hair had just started to grow back from the last insane surgery and now it was all gone again…

You sighed and let your head fall back; a dull bang came from the wall you were sitting against, but you ignored it. It was just the metal plate in the back of your head hitting the metal wall of your cell. You could barely even feel your scalp anymore.

The grey walls were dented, and the slap-shod metal doors had been reinforced yesterday, when Dr. Ruesso had removed the chip from it's housing in the back of your head and examined it. Now you were sure he was going to make another, and there would be all the tears and all the yelling…

The OR15 unit from when you escaped came to your mind and your eyes dropped to the floor.

The poor thing had been on it's last leg, still trying to help you...or had something else been happening? Your fingers trailed down from the top of your head toward the metal plate that could be opened to a small panel of some sort of electric mumbo-jumbo that you couldn’t see; but _something_ had happened at that time, right? The white-hot sparking, the feeling of a part of yourself leaving, wanting help…

Had that OR15 been your doing?

You jumped when the metal door of your cell noisily ran along it’s tracks and your eyes fell on a tall, red-haired woman. You knew her by sight--she’d hardly said two words to you--and knew she was one of the big wigs; probably _the_ one in charge. Her eyes watched you for long moments, her long nails resting naturally against her arms. The two colors made you feel uneasy, as if she could see more of you than anyone else ever could.

The wall was cold as you slowly raised yourself up, and pressed yourself back into the wall. Who knew what this woman and the other doctor had in store for you next, but you steeled yourself; you wouldn't go down without a fight.

Moira suddenly chuckled and you felt your insides freeze.

“There’s that fire,” Moira taunted, “That folded steel that kept you alive through all out tampering and splicing.”

You pressed your lips together and set your jaw. Before Moira could speak again, another figure appeared from behind her.

Ruesso was a much older man with little hair other than the wisps that grew around his ears and along the back of his head--and those wisps stuck out in multiple directions and looked badly in need to a cutting. His gray eyes matched his white hair and the patchy stubble on his face told you he'd shaved within the last day or so.

“Well, good afternoon, dear,” The man greet warmly; he did not spare a glance toward Moira as he continued, “Headaches gone today? I'm sorry the previous chip failed like that--the next one will work properly.”

You refused to answer, your eyes slowly moving between the two scientists. There was one thing you knew, and that was they weren't done with you. You swallowed and tried not to feel small under Moira’s intense gaze and Ruesso’s warm one.

Moira rolled her eyes and pulled up a small device that sent a beam of light out--you’d seen them use it before and knew it was some sort of scanner.

“Hormone levels indicate no pain; vitals are stable,” Moira clicked the small machine off, “We don’t have time for your pleasantries, Ruesso; put the chip in, now.”

Even as she said it, you saw the small wires on her clothes light up. Your eyes darted toward her hands, which she raised palm-up to reveal a dark orb. A shudder ran through you and she looked pleased. You knew what that orb was capable of, and it scared you.

Ruesso threw an impatient frown at Moira, his eyes also lingering over the dark colored sphere; he didn’t linger on it long before he stepped forward and motioned you closer.

“Now, I’m just going to put in a new chip--you shouldn’t even feel it going in,” He held up a small, circular chip; it was green in color with silver connectors and small nodes that flashed little golden lights every few seconds.

You’d never be able to guess the intricacies of it, but you still didn’t want him to touch you--just the thought of it made your skin crawl and your stomach twist. You wanted to throw up.

You started to slide along the wall, leaning away from Ruesso, when Moira made a noise with her lips. She held up the dark orb and you froze and pulled in a gasp through your nose. The orb swirled with dark purples and blacks, the colors reminding you of a really bad bruise; your body remembered what it felt to be hit by it and you shuddered again.

Ruesso’s hand grabbed your arm as you looked at Moira’s orb and you were turned so that your chest was against the wall. Your hands came up and pressed against the wall, but you didn’t fight, not now. You had to survive to see another day.

_As long as you survive, there is always tomorrow._

The words wrapped around you and you closed your eyes as you felt the metal panel open at the base of your skull; you couldn’t feel more than that, other than vague pressure and the bright light that sparked behind your eyelids when the chip finally clicked into place.

You felt the warmth of a hand on your shoulder and another on your hip and you pulled away, and nearly threw yourself into the corner, away from Ruesso; your knees hit the cold ground and you put your back into the corner. The feeling of your skin crawling made you swallow hard, even as you watched him warily.

“Are you quite finished, Ruesso?” Moira grit her teeth.

Ruesso watched you with some semblance of...maybe regret? You pressed your lips together and didn’t relax; after everything you’d been put through--surgeries, pills that made your skin peel, pieces of you taken out and electrical parts put back in, all while listening to whatever opera Ruesso was fond of at the time, or Moira’s angry voice and curses…

You had to escape. You had to get out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are excited~
> 
> So, I've decided my posting schedule is going to be every other day (and I might change it depending on my schedule/if I'm able to keep up with writing). That being said, I have to apologize to you guys: this is going to be the slowest of burns between reader/roadhog. I've written ahead (I'm mid-chapter 14 atm) and reader hasn't even met roadhog yet. SO STRAP YOURSELVES IN KIDDOS :D
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	3. Ever Prepared

The VIP lounge offered some shelter from the deep bass of the dance floor down below. Rich red velvet couches and deep purple carpets decorated it to try and emulate the idea of luxury, but even to Maximilien, it seemed tacky. Perhaps it was why he liked this particular place; it was a visual reminder of how far beneath him most of these people really were.

The private booth he had been graciously led to was surrounded by a heavy red curtain that muffled the bass even more, nearly promising that his meeting today would have some privacy. The insurance for that privacy was the three bodyguards that were standing around the outside of the curtain.

Maximilien himself had just gotten settled in his chair when the curtain parted and a large man with dark brown skin entered. His brow was pulled together in what seemed to be annoyance, but Maximilien simply motioned him forward, politely inclining his head in greeting.

“It has been some time, Akande,” Maximilien said, folding his hands in his lap, “I must congratulate you on your previous success in Spain.”

“Overwatch tried to stick their noses in,” Akande answered, his voice still lilted with his accent, but his eyes glittered with a smug arrogance that Maximilien thought was well earned, “But it was thanks to their presence that I was able to avoid the authorities.”

Akande Ogundimu--often more well known as ‘Doomfist’--was a cold and calculating man who excelled at both throwing his fists and his intellect; he saw conflict everywhere he went and was the type to always hold all the cards, or at least know where the cards were at the table. One thing was for sure: Maximilien knew which way the wind blew in this dangerous game, and Doomfist was a squall.

“Yes, as unexpected as it was for their little organization to reform, I can’t say it's hurt us as much as they have hoped,” Maximilien quipped, “But please, Akande: sit and relax before we begin our business.”

Akande inclined his head as if in thanks before he stretched himself out, nearly taking an entire couch all by himself. His arms stretched out to rest on the back of the couch; yet despite this show of relaxation, even Maximilien couldn’t deny that Akande looked as ready for a fight now as when he was standing.

“I won’t stay long,” Akande said, “Amelie and Olivia are currently working in Dubai and I’m going to meet them.”

Maximilien sat forward, “Then I won’t keep you; our little project is showing success.”

Akande went rigid, “Moira has succeeded, then?”

“There are a few roadblocks, of course,” The omnic sighed, “The asset has enough of a mind to escape unsuccessfully every few weeks, and there were some hiccups in the programming, from what was reported.”

Maximilien paused for effect before he announced, “The asset was able to reactivate a derelict OR15; there was little to be known of its functionality, since the operatives shot it on sight, but it's more success than we were estimating.”

There was a tense silence while Akande shifted to rest his elbows on his knees; his eyes bore into Maximilien’s faceplate hot enough that the omnic wanted to shift uncomfortably. Instead, he met Akande’s intensity with a passive calm.

“So first order is to ensure the asset does not escape,” Akande already had grasp of the situation and his mind was filtering possibility after possibility; Maximilien was convinced that Akande could rival any omnic for logistical power.

“More than that, there is still the secrecy to be kept,” the omnic chided, “One of the reasons the asset keeps escaping is simply boiled down to the low number of operatives we keep at that base.”

“It seems hardly fitting to call it a base,” Akande’s lip curled downward, “A modified warehouse and nothing more.”

“That’s neither here nor there; instead, we should be focusing on keeping too much curiosity from rousing--I already don’t like how close to Numbani the site is, considering the developments there.”

Akande looked unconcerned, “The child created a pet; simply one that is made of metal.”

“The so-called ‘Orisa’ is still something we should take into account,” Maximilien insisted calmly, “A few agents in Numbani have been sending in reports of Orisa’s contacts within Overwatch.”

This made the large man pause, his eyes slowly sweeping over the table between them as his thoughts turned over in his head. The floor began to vibrate dully beneath their feet as the song style changed, but Akande’s thoughts pressed onward.  
“Perhaps it is Overwatch we should be seeking aid from,” He spoke slowly.

Maximilien startled, “I’m sure you have a plan, with you saying that, but please excuse me as I assume you simply said it that way to try and provoke me.”

Akande chuckled, but was undeterred, “Don’t worry; soon, I will have the asset eating out of my hand.”

~*~

“Try again,” Moira ordered from her place behind the reinforced glass.

You panted in the middle of the ‘training’ room, your body sore and your head throbbed dully. Hours had passed since Moira and Ruesso had brought you in here, telling you to recreate what had happened out in the streets with the OR15. Of course, you had no idea how you did it, but Moira wouldn’t hear any of that.

“Try. Again.”

Your eyes raised to glare defiantly at the glass--even though you couldn’t actually see through the reflective surface--but you weren’t keen on Moira threatening you with her strange dark spheres or the electrical shocks from the wristband locked around your arm. Drones slowly patrolled the walls of the training room and you focused on the one closest to you again.

What had you been doing when the OR15 came to your aid? What had you been feeling?

Help. You had been begging for help, but more than that, you had been angry. Angry at the passersby who stood and watched as you were caught; watched while you begged and cried for help. And they had just stood by. Many hadn’t bothered to watch for more than a few seconds before they turned and walked away.

That man. He had recorded the whole thing, but even he had just turned away. Just like the rest, he left you to your fate. You felt something--a new emotion? Or maybe just a new type of energy buzzing in your chest?--start to stir up and filled your veins. You hissed and writhed, trying to keep your balance; the whole of your being focused on the feeling trying to figure out just what you should do with it.

The drone near you stuttered to a stop and your eyes shot up from the floor. It felt like you...transferred something? Like the energy built up in your chest sort of leaked out and went….into the drone? Your other senses began to dull; the sound of the drones buzzing along their designated patrol routes faded, your eyes focused hard on the drone front of your until it felt like your peripheral tunneled--your body tensed and a part of you wondered if you were even breathing.

The light on top of the drone blinked twice and you tried pulling it closer-

It turned toward you so quickly, you jumped and lost your balance. You had been leaning forward in your focus and when the drone startled you, your knees gave out and all of your focus disappeared.

The drone sparked in front of you and began spinning in place before it ran into the wall and fell over. It was making a noise that sounded close to a distressed beeping, and it made you lean away. You knew drones were nothing but zeros and ones, they were robots, with no feelings but-

“Now, do it again.”

Moira’s voice broke into your reverie and you jumped, looking at the thick reflective glass where you knew the two scientists stood and observed you--like you were some sort of animal.

“No.”

You stood up and straightened your back, your hands clenched into fists, “No! No more! I want out! Let me go!”

Moira released the intercom button and glanced at Ruesso, “She’s becoming defiant again. Reign her in, or I will push for her pacification early.”

The woman turned her back and started to walk away--they could leave things today; the drones were harmless, even if the asset could figure out a way to make them explode--preparing to write a report on the asset’s progress. Maximilien and Akande would be pleased with these results, and were smart enough not to rush the process. They would patiently wait for a success--one that would bring the world to its knees and wash it in conflict.

“Only through conflict can humanity evolve, right?” Moira asked the empty hallway and hated that silence was her only answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot continues!
> 
> Next chapter, I can promise you guys are going to see some of our favorite heroes! Just a reminder: this fic takes place a little bit after Winston does the Overwatch recall, so he's still recruiting and all that. I've taken some liberties, but I hope you guys like it!
> 
> Also, Fun Fact: Before I went back and added the second half of this chapter, this was my shortest chapter! Now it's more filled in, haha.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	4. Alas, Training

“30 seconds until timer expires,” Athena’s cool even tones announced over the intercom overhead.

Winston stood at the glass window, looking down into the training arena, watching as both 3-man teams moved through the course; around corners, out of sight of the other team. In his own ear-piece, he could hear the two teams talking, making plans or being crude--that last one was thanks to Jamie; Jamison Fawkes, who had agreed to join Overwatch with his bodyguard nearly a month ago.

Ever since he had put out the call, old and new members had started to join. Lena Oxton had been the first, but by no means the only. Jack Morrison had returned from his secluded life as ‘Soldier 76’--a piece of information that hadn’t exactly shocked Winston, but made the gorilla ponder at--and Angela Ziegler wasn’t far behind. Overwatch’s ‘Mercy’ was still in Sweden, but mostly to try and get in contact with Torbjorn Lindholm, a weapon’s expert that would be indispensable for the organization.

“This bomb’s for you!”

The giggling cry left the opposing team scrambling for cover, but Winston heard the unmistakable cry of Mei-Ling Zhou who hadn’t been able to put her wall up in time and was now covered in a powdery paint that was orange in color.

The woman cursed in chinese and sat on the ground with her arms crossed while Jamie--nearly equally covered by the same orange paint--quickly threw another bomb toward Lucio, who had stuck his head out to check on the damage.

Lucio Correia dos Santos; he was an unexpected addition, even by Winston’s standards. The DJ-turned-freedom-fighter had become a household name internationally after it was reported that he had been responsible for the theft and modification of the Vishkar Corporation’s sonic equipment; with it, he had lead a civilian rebellion against said company. While he wasn’t as experienced as some who had come to Overwatch, he had a charisma and an online presence that Winston admired, and the athleticism to keep up with even Jack.

“15 seconds until timer expires,” Athena announced cooly.

“Check your flank, Fawkes!” Jack spat as he poked himself out of cover and launched a spray of paint gun pellets toward Lena, who was trying to blink into a good position against the ex-junker.

Jamie looked unconcerned as he glanced over his shoulder, “You’re checkin’ out my whatnow? Didn’t know you was that type of bloke.”

The grin on his face must have annoyed Jack, because the soldier didn’t swing out of his cover again and left Lena to open fire on Jamie. This fact didn’t seem to phase Jamie; instead, he turned to face Lena as she launched herself into the air.

Lena brought the two pistols down to aim at him, ready to open fire and even the score-

A large metal hook was suddenly around her waist and she was yanked to the side, her arms flailing to steady her balance. She was dragged right into Jamie’s bodyguard, Mako Rutledge usually better known as Roadhog, who put a large gun--not originally a paint gun, but Winston had managed to rig something together--up against Lena’s chest. A low growl escaped the larger man and Lena clicked her Recall; her body image faded and suddenly she was back where she’d been a few seconds prior, about 10 feet from Jamie.

The skinny man giggled where he stood, nearly dancing with some unknown glee even as Athena announced, “Timer has expired.”

“Well what’s so funny?” Lena demanded, her hands firmly on her hips, “Winning by one point isn’t such a great match!”

Jamie shook his head, his arms over his stomach as he tried to clear his throat between giggles, “L...Look down, sheila.”

Lena blinked and looked at the ground at her feet, where she saw a colorful mine--created by Jamie himself to explode paint, rather than shrapnel. Before she could fully register what she was seeing, it exploded in her face, covering her in orange paint.

The ex-junker was on the ground, he laughed so hard. Tears gathered from his version of a punchline. Lena coughed and shook her arms, trying to rid herself of the color, but it clung to her skin and clothes.

“Oh yeah, so funny,” She grimaced.

“Are you alright, Lena?” Mei hurried over, throwing a light glare toward Jamie, “Why did you do that? The match was over!”

Jamie blinked, “What match?”

Mei and Lena glanced at each other, but before anyone could say anything else, Winston joined Jack and the two of them made a motion for everyone to come closer. The two teams--the first consisting of Jack, Jamie and Mako, the second with Lucio, Lena and Mei--were covered in dual colored paint, orange and blue. The mess of it didn’t seem to bother Jack or Jamie, but the rest were inspecting themselves; Lena was now the one with the most paint on her, with her front completely caked in orange paint, while Mako was the one with the least paint. His were simply little track marks from Lena’s small pistols, circling his body three or four times over, along with a few bigger splatters that were likely from Lucio or Mei.

“The final score after three rounds,” Winston held up a small clipboard, and straightened his glasses, “3 points to Orange team, and 2 points to Blue team.”

“Good job, guys,” Lucio put his hands on his hips and beamed at the three Orange team members. Mei and Lena didn’t look as happy, but seemingly for different reasons.

“Did we have to choose paint as the alternative, love?” Lena asked Winston, smearing orange paint around on her face as she tried (and failed) to wipe away what she could.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have access to the same level of technology, now that we’re working beneath the law,” Winston sat back on the floor, but it didn’t hardly detract from the gorilla’s height.

“Focus,” Jack snapped, “What we have at our disposal are agents of Overwatch, and we need to be back up to speed as quickly as we can--Talon hasn’t stopped moving, and things are as bad as ever out there.”

He continued on before anyone else could get distracted, “Jamison: you know your way around a battlefield, but you have no awareness of enemy movements--and you covered yourself in as much of our team’s paint as the enemy-”

“Me bombs don’t hurt me, Morrison, how many times I gotta tell ya?” Jamie crossed his skinny arms and pouted.

“Lena, you’re nearly as bad--you’re too focused on what you’re doing and where you want to be to think about the bigger picture; and this isn’t the first time it cost you,” Jack continued gruffly without answering the junker. Lena looked away, already knowing that Jack was talking about the incident in London with Tekhartha Mondatta. Winston started to try and defend Lena, but Jack was off again, ever the soldier.

“Lucio, you have to focus on aim; paint or concussive sound blasts, both are useless unless they hit a target. That wall-riding trick is cute, but until you can actually add to a team, cut it out.”

Everyone shuffled as Jack hit the points in his head--he was definitely someone from the soldier enhancement program; even while a part of the training exercise he had been analyzing each of them.

“Mako, standing and absorbing damage from an enemy isn’t-” Jack was interrupted by the larger man holding up a yellow canister that they all vaguely recognized; it came from a hip bag that was full of them. Jack still tried to press on, “All it will take for that to fail is too much damage, too fast-”

Jack had to stop again as Mako turned and started to walk away, which caused Jamie to erupt again in laughter.

“Oi! Ya can’t just walk away while the big cheese is talkin’!” Despite his words, Jamie followed after Mako, seemingly with no intention of trying to bring him back.

Mei glared after the pair, frustration etched on her face; she could remember the glory days of Overwatch and a part of her had hoped to get most of the old gang back together without the need for anyone new. Change was hardly ever a good thing and just like with the climate and the weather, it only took a subtle change early enough for a huge storm to brew later on.

“Mei,” Jack ignored the junkers, having expected something like that to happen; now it was Mei’s turn and she turned to look back at the soldier--she’d be lying if she said that she hadn’t hoped he would have forgotten about her performance, “I know you’re not used to battle conditions--we had you strictly to the R&D team with the Ecopoints--but hesitation is your biggest weakness right now. I’ll take anything, mistakes, bad calls, all of it, if you’d just step up and do something, rather than letting it happen to you.”

His reprimand of her was definitely a little warmer than the others, but Mei knew it was more from a perceived weakness: Jack didn’t think she could take harsh criticism, or worse, that she might start crying if he laid it out the same way he did the others. At the end of it, it just felt like Jack didn’t trust her, and that hurt the worst.

“Alright,” She agreed quietly, looking at the ground as she waited for his attention to shift to someone else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly haven't been this excited about a fic since I wrong 'Hell is a Place on the Surface' for the Undertale fandom, haha. I hope you guys like my characterization of the characters I'm introducing--comments and my asks on tumblr are open for your opinions!
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	5. Seeking Outside Help

The radio played in the background, the rhythmic drums and horns often being overtaken by the metallic din of the workshop around it. Parts and half-finished projects filled shelves and tables, and the smell of burning metal and oil competed to overtake the senses of any who entered.

Any, of course, except for the omnic that now opened the large roll door that lead into the workshop of her creator.

“Efi?” Orisa called as she held the rolling door open for the guest that the omnic had deemed safe to bring to her creator.

“Over here, Orisa,” The young child’s voice came from beneath the large work table that sat in the middle of the room. Despite the relative chaos of the rest of the room, this table was neatly organized, with piles of parts, screws, nuts and bolts in tackle boxes in their own labeled compartments. Pieces of metal were arranged in an order that made sense to Efi, though even Orisa sometimes had trouble guessing what kind of sorting algorithm the young genius used.

The guest was an older woman with deep laugh lines and a few creases along her forehead; her hair was still a deep brown that almost matched her skin, except where it was graying near her temples where it was swept tastefully up into the french twist at the back of her head. The woman took in the workshop with the same interest of someone who likely gave polite interest to children’s crafts.

Efi finally stood up straight from behind the table, a handheld soldering iron in her hand, “Sorry, I was just starting to work on the wiring--are you Amina Dimka? From the Numbani Council?”

The woman smiled warmly, “Yes, I am; and you are Efi Oladele, just the robotics expert that I hope can help.”

“My parents are through here,” Efi made a motion and lead the woman through the shop and toward a door that lead into the house that the workshop was attached to; Orisa couldn’t fit through the door--or in the house for that matter--but she folded her four legs beneath her right at the door so she could listen in and be a part of whatever discussion was to take place.

The house had been cleaned three times in the past two days; Efi’s mother, Imani Oladele, had been on pins and needles when she’d gotten off the phone with Amina Dimka nearly a week prior when Amina had informed the Oladele’s that she had an urgent and private matter she wanted to discuss with Efi and Orisa.

Efi’s father, Gowon, was the first to greet Amina once she followed Efi inside.

“Ms. Dimka,” Gowon shook her hand, “It is a pleasure to have you here in our home; I’m Gowon Oladele and this is my wife, Imani.”

“Thank you for opening your home to me; it’s absolutely gorgeous,” Amani complimented, shaking Imani’s hand next. Even in their best clothes, Efi’s parents seemed plain compared to the politician.

Efi was quickly bored with the pleasantries of the adults, and took it as a small blessing when her mother motioned for Efi to wash her hands. The young girl continued to listen as she moved into the kitchen and washed up.

Orisa made a noise that was reminiscent of a giggle and Amina glanced back to see the Omnic playing with a small boston terrier; the image made Amani stare for a few moments, trying not to focus on the fact that the impression it gave her was that of a child playing with her puppy, rather than battle-ready Omnic interacting with the small dog.

It was just as Efi was returning from the kitchen that Gowon asked, “So what is it that my daughter and Orisa can help you with, Ms. Dimka?”

Efi sat in a chair near the door where Orisa giggled over the dog, but her attention was on the older woman; she was just as curious as her parents were.

“Well, it hasn’t escaped the notice of the Numbani Council the work that Efi and Orisa have done in their effort to keep Numbani safe,” Amina sat with her back straight and her hands folded neatly in her lap; she was every bit as comfortable in their home for her business as she would have been in her own office, “And a...delicate matter has arisen in a neighboring city, to the south: Okanu”

Gowon took the pause in Amina’s speech to ask, “But, Okanu would be a Nigerian problem; is it something for Numbani to get involved in?”

“We have always tried to be good neighbors,” Amina said, “And we on the Council feel that Orisa would be the sort of hero we need at this time.”

“Orisa can’t go it alone,” Efi immediately said, “I have to stay close so I can help with her protocols!”

“Efi, wait,” Imani said, before she was talking to Amina again, “Just what would they be doing, if we agreed?”

Amina paused for only a moment before she said, “There was a Talon facility found in Okanu--in a modified warehouse near the middle of the city; the Nigerian government was able to clear it out and such, but there’s a few, more dangerous things that we feel Orisa could stand guard over until someone can figure out what to do with it all.”

“What sort of dangerous things?” Imani asked as she fidgeted in her seat.

“Nothing that Efi need go near,” Amina assured, “Most are the relics of some older experiments--most of which we can’t be sure are inactive until we find someone qualified to look at them. There is...Well, there is a person left behind--some resources we’ve been able to gather on her say that she’s a potential threat to any and all who want peace between omnics and humans.”

Imani put a hand to her mouth and her eyes darted to Efi, and then to Orisa; Gowan rubbed his wife’s arm soothingly, but his eyes stayed on the politician, “Is Orisa and Efi really your only option? This sounds dangerous, and more than that, it sounds like there’s potential risks-”

“This is why I built Orisa!” Efi interrupted, standing from her chair, “We can’t turn our backs when it something this big! Isn’t that right, Orisa?”

“Efi, this isn’t something-” Imani started.

“My primary protocols are to aid those in need; to turn Madam Councilwoman Amina Dimka away would violate those protocols,” Orisa said fluidly.

“If I may?” Amina broke in just as both Imani and Gowon looked ready to argue. When Gowon finally nodded, Amina continued, “While I was not aware Efi needed to be so close to Orisa, I can guarantee that Efi need not even step into the base, and we can provide every precaution necessary.”

Efi’s parents glanced at each other, still looking unsure.

“Please,” Amina added quietly, “I have a daughter near Efi’s age; please understand I would never ask this of you unless it were absolutely necessary.”

Silence filled the living room of the Oladele house; Imani and Gowon glanced at each other, and then toward Efi and Orisa. Talon was more than just some hate group with violence in their nature: Talon was worldwide, and they had already proven that life--of omnics and humans alike--meant little to them. Efi’s life would mean even less to them.

“Mama, Papa,” Efi moved closer to her parents, “If we can stop this person from escaping, then we’ll help everyone! We can’t walk away now that we know what’s at stake, Orisa is a hero!”

Amina silently observed the 11-year old. She was bright and energetic, and she spoke with intelligence--her only flaw seemed to be the childish exuberance and naivete that followed all her age, which could hardly be called a flaw. Efi really did remind Amina of her own child…

It almost seemed a shame, considering what her superiors expected from her and the omnic.

Despite still being visibly uneasy, both of Efi’s parents agreed to Amina’s proposal; the councilwoman thanked them and told them that they would receive paperwork for compensation--Amina informed them it would mostly likely be in the form of another grant awarded by the Numbani Council, in order to keep the particulars out of the papers.

“Secrecy will also offer your family another layer of protection from Talon,” She had said, “This will be treated with the utmost confidentiality on our end.”

“I don’t like it.”

Gowon looked up from doing dishes from dinner. Amina had left hours ago and Efi was already making plans in her workshop for protocol upgrades and other such things in her workshop. Imani had stewed over their decision all through dinner; and while Efi hadn’t noticed, Gowon did. He also knew that there was little use in bringing it up before his wife was ready to talk about it, so he simply made himself available.

“Don’t like what?” He asked, giving himself time to put away the dish he had just dried; then, he turned to look at her as she sank into a chair at the table.

Imani shot an unamused glare at her husband, “This whole thing with the councilwoman! I don’t like the idea of Efi being that close to something like Talon and-” Imani stopped and pressed her lips together, a wave of emotion closing her throat.

“And getting involved in something that could-” Even as she tried again, the thought of even speaking the words ‘that could kill my daughter’ were too hard to speak out loud and moisture gathered in her eyes, “Gowon, this is our _baby_.”

Gowon listened quietly to his wife, his eyes watching the floor and nodding--not in agreement, but to show he was listening. It broke his heart to hear his wife worry and her voice cracked moved him; he pushed off from the counter and sat next to her. His hand reached out for hers and she clutched it like she was drowning; and maybe in a way, she was.

“We should call and-”

“We won’t,” Gowon said quietly, but he was firm, “If we force Efi to run from this, we will hurt her more than we would save her.”

Imani’s eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, “Are you _insane_? This is Efi’s life we are talking about-”

“And how would you have her live it?” Gowon asked, “Living in fear, running away from the things that are dangerous, simply to live another day? You tell me if Efi will agree to live on those terms.”

Imani knew he was right--the idea of running from something like this would never occur to Efi, “But that’s why we’re her parents! We keep her from danger, we keep her safe!”

“Efi would resent us for it,” Gowon squeezed Imani’s hand, “As much as I fear for her life, I fear the life she would live if she emulated us; she’s smart--a genius--and our wants and cares as a family are important to a point. We cannot restrain her, or force her hand, or I would never be able to call myself her father again, Imani.”

Even knowing Gowon was right, Imani rubbed her face in frustration. Efi was as strong willed as herself, and as righteous as her father--neither was sure where her intellect had come from, but it was amazing to see in action. Watching the girl build Orisa, listening to her her talk to the heaps of metal as she sat programming Orisa’s personality core…

Gowon sat silently and watched his wife as she slowly processed her thoughts and the situation before he finally said, “We won’t let her go alone--I can take a vacation from work to be with her.”

Imani took a small breath to calm herself, and her hand wiped the gathering tears standing in her eyes, “I will come, but I won’t be able to stay long; perhaps a few days…”

“We will see her through this,” Gowon reached out and touched Imani’s face, tracing the lines and the curves of her face, “And we will see each other through this; we’re a family, we do this together.”

Imani nodded, “Yes, together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys are enjoying this! I can't really tell since I've haven't had much response for it.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	6. Everything in its Place

“Subject has shown remarkable progress since her breakthrough; heightened emotional stimuli create a great output of power, but lessens control; recommendation: slowly build up abilities, and avoid upsetting subject. Lack of control upsets subject and creates setbacks in training and testing.”

Ruesso’s voice filled the room, the recording set to loop as Moira leaned closer to the microscope, slowly processing what was being said even as she continued her own research and work.

“On a more personal note: Subject seems to have calmed greatly since chip was replaced. I can only hypothesize that subject’s mood may be altered by the chips I use. Perhaps discomfort, or it may have something to do with electrical firing of the brain’s neurons being disrupted or altered. Will request another surgery to reinforce insulation between brain and electrical wirings of the chip.”

“A personal note,” Moira scoffed quietly, but she listened to the recorded request for surgery, “Even despite your personal feelings, Ruesso, I guess I _can_ trust you to make the tough choices.”

Moira laughed to herself, but it felt empty, even to her own ears. She knew all about making the ‘right’ choices in concerns to experimentation on humans. Even when it hurt, she had made the right choices; she wouldn't let herself think of it any differently.

A chirping noise from behind her made Moira turn off Ruesso’s recording and open the voice channel on the call coming in.

“Moira,” She clipped.

“You're getting a new guard,” Akande’s voice rumbled over the staticky connection, “In one week’s time. You might want to make yourself hard to find before they arrive.”

Moira sat up straight from her microscope and turned to look at the lines on the monitor that danced whenever Akande spoke or made a noise.

“What are you talking about?” Moira raised an eyebrow and scoffed, “What, are you sending Reaper?”

The mysterious figure tended to avoid Moira, and when he couldn't, he was trying to kill her--unofficially and from the shadows, and likely because of her work with the previous incarnation of Overwatch.

“He’s unavailable,” Akande sounded amused, “No, what I have in mind is much more disposable.”

~*~

“Lena, I would like you to accompany Reinhardt when he travels to Sweden,” Winston said as he swiped a map into the air between himself and the small woman across from him.

Lena, who had been looking for an excuse to leave the base--mostly to get away from Jack for a little while, the man had them training as if he expected Talon to show up any minute--paused.

“I mean, of course I’ll help out, love, but…”

Winston focused through the transparent map to see Lena’s disappointed face, “What’s wrong?”

“Well,” Lena shifted from one foot to the other, “Angela’s already there and Reinhardt is going to support her; do you really need me?”

“Torbjorn is being particularly stubborn,” Winston shrugged, “I’m hoping the more familiar faces he sees, the less he’ll resist returning to Overwatch.”

“Do you really think seeing me will force him back?” Lena shifted again.

Winston chuckled, “You couldn’t force that man into water if you pushed him off a boat--no, he already agreed to return, not long after you; he told me he just had one more thing to handle and then he went off communications. He hardly speaks to Angela, and we’re worried something may have happened.”

“What do you mean? What could have happened to our angry grandpa?” Lena leaned onto the table, her teeth worrying her bottom lip.

“I’m not sure; Angela doesn’t seem too worried, but that doesn’t change the fact that Tor has locked himself in his workshop and won’t talk.”

Lena looked at the map before her eyes fell to the smooth black surface of the computer table; Torbjorn Lindholm had never been shy of speaking his mind, or hesitated to get his way about things. It was something Lena admired in him: he wasn’t the type to take no for an answer, or to let others push him around--even when it caused a few problems in the team, it was still a trait that was wholly Tor’s.

“Alright, Winston,” Lena nodded, standing up straight, “You can count me in!”

“Thanks, Lena,” Winston looked relieved, “I would send more people, like Jack or Mei, but…”

“Aw, we can’t leave homebase empty, love!” Lena nodded in understanding, “Besides, ol’ Tor would probably double-down on security if he saw Jack.”

They both laughed at that before Lena turned away. Winston didn’t let himself sigh until she was long gone.

Things hadn’t always been like this; over a decade ago, the idea of being called upon by Overwatch was something people jumped at, not something Winston had to beg people to attend. The symbol, the team, the _people_ had meant something, stood for something, hoped for something better and now here they were, unable to even get the old members to join without a fight and fuss.

“Athena, did I do the right thing?”

“I am unable to make such determinations,” Athena answered, her voice calm, “However, I can tell you that your vitals at the time of making said decision were of sound mind and belief.”

“Belief?” Winston looked up at Athena's glowing symbol.

“Imagination and faith are as real to the human mind as touch and taste are,” Athena said, “Such things can sway decision making, and can fuel passion and determination. Imagining a better world and belief that those who have answered the new call will see it done.”

Winston felt his chest swell with warmth and he chuckled, “Thanks, Athena; I think I really needed to hear that.”

“You are welcome, Winston.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next are ones I'm happy with (dare I say, proud of? lol) so I hope you guys like them too! Sorry this chapter is on the shorter side: sometimes they come out that way haha. I'm hoping the chapter lengths will grow as the story does. Like I said before, I definitely want this to be a Roadhog/Reader, but I also want this to be about the world of Overwatch as a whole. I hope you guys don't mind seeing other characters just as often (or sometimes more often? Possibly) as the reader!
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	7. Screaming Never Helps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** WARNING: **   
>  ** /Violence, Minor Character Death/ **

Two weeks of forced practice and training and now, controlling drones was easy. Even controlling multiple drones at once came quickly once you had mastered controlling one; now you had four drones practicing waltzes around you, paired off and spinning to a quiet room. You could hear the music, though. Your memories of your life before all of this, where music filled rooms and life was good--not great, even compared to now, but good and peaceful.

You hummed the tune you remembered quietly before standing from your place in the middle of the room. You body swayed to the melody and you cut in between two of the drones, letting your hands fall on the ‘shoulders’ of the still dancing robot. You moved onto the balls of your feet and began moving your feet through the steps of the waltz, spinning with the drone and continuing to hum the song. It was almost easy to imagine the feel of the flowing dresses you used to wear as they would spin and flow around your legs, wrapping around you as you spun, and then quickly unwrap as you spun another way.

The door made an ugly groaning noise as it opened, the metal screeched in protest as it swung on its hinges.

The man you recognized as Huxley appeared from behind the door, his gun leveled on you. You tensed and without prompting, the drones all stopped their dance and hovered in front of you, blocking his view of you.

“Fucking freak,” You heard Huxley mutter before you peeked between the drones and saw him and another guard shove an omnic into the training room you.

You pressed your lips together when the door slammed behind the omnic and he just looked around hurriedly, obviously unsure of where he was or why. Now you weren’t sure if Huxley had called you or the omnic ‘freak’; most of the Talon grunts were omnic-phobes to begin with, but the worst of the bunch seemed to have been placed here at this dingey, dirty, backwater base.

“Who are you?”

The omnic’s words made you look up at him from behind the hovering drones. You felt sorry for him, since he seemed in the same predicament as you: taken from his home with no explanation, no respect and likely bound for torture or some other heinous plot cooked up by Moira and Ruesso.

You quietly told the omnic your name, “I’ve been trapped her for...oh geez...longer than I’ve bothered to keep count.”

He put a hand to his metallic chest, “I apologize; it seems we must be in the same boat now, as the saying goes.”

Probably not the same boat, you thought, looking down as you walked around the drones so you weren’t hiding from the omnic, “What about you? What’s your name?”

“Mobo,” He introduced himself with a slight bow, “I’m from the capital.”

“Which capital? I have no idea where we are,” You sat on the floor with your legs crossed, and you rested your head on your hands.

“Now that you mention it, I am not sure where this base is either, but I am from Nigeria.”

A short silence fell while the omnic moved closer and sat near you--you noticed he still gave you your personal space and you appreciated it. After you had been here a while, you hated being touched. Nothing bothered you more than when the Talon guards or one of the scientists touched you; they never asked, there was little warning. They just manhandled you and it made your skin crawl.

“Is there any hope of escape?” Mobo suddenly asked.

What a question, “Honestly? I’ve tried more times than I care to admit; sometimes I can make it onto the street, but most of the time I can’t even get out of this stupid warehouse.”

His head bowed in what you could only guess was despair, “...I want to return home, to my wife, Kaitlyn.”

“That’s a pretty name,” You said gently, and then you continued, hoping to distract him from the depression that would surely set it once he realized how bad his situation really was, “How did you two meet?”

“She was an aid to the American Ambassador--I was in charge of cleaning the Embassy building,” Mobo said easily and you heard the warmth in his voice, “When Nigeria passed the law to allow omnics to marry, Kaitlyn and I were nearly first on the list.”

You found yourself smiling as he spoke, “How long has it been?”

“We have been together for 6 years, 9 months and 22 days,” He listed off easily, “And we have been married for 4 years, 4 months, and 12 days; we just finalized the adoption of our first child, Caluna.”

Your smiled widened, “Wow, I...that sounds beautiful.”

Silence fell again and you tried not to think about just what Talon could want with him.

“What do they do here?” Mobo suddenly asked.

“What?” You had tuned out for a moment and now processed what he asked slowly.

How do you explain what they had done to you? Was there an easy way to say it? Could you just come out and say they had scrambled and addled your brain, messed with your genetics, toyed with you so that you could-

Suddenly, it all rushed to you; you knew why Mobo was here.

You stood abruptly, and made Mobo jump, “What? What is it?”

You were too preoccupied. The reflective surface of the glass kept you from knowing if Ruesso and Moira were actually there. It didn’t matter, though. You could feel it. Feel their eyes as if they burned on contact. You raised your fists and beat on the glass. It shuddered with every hit, but you knew you couldn’t break it.

“No! I won’t do it! You can’t make me!” You screamed, and pounded on the glass, “DO YOU HEAR ME? RUESSO? O’DEORAIN? I WON’T DO IT!”

Mobo was startled by your sudden shift in attitude and mannerisms. He hesitated, but eventually stood from his place and started walking cautiously toward you.

He said your name tenatively, “Is everything-”

“Stay away from me!” You turned and snapped at him, backing away, “They want me to hurt you, but I won’t! I won’t do it! I won’t!”

As if on cue, the door groaned and opened, making you both turn to watch the Talon guards start to enter. There were three of them, and the one in the lead was Huxley. You shook your head and reacted.

The drones immediately moved; one came to you, to shield you from bullets, two circled Mobo, and you send the fourth racing toward the three armed men. There was little hope, little to be done--the drones didn’t have any weapons or fighting capabilities and the first was quickly turned into scrap by Huxley’s automatic fire.

You turned to the glass and banged on it more, “NO! Please, please! I won’t do it!”

You heard two more explosions and a cry of fear from Mobo, but you kept hitting the glass, “Stop! Please!”

Your back burned as the final drone was destroyed; it wasn’t until you felt the hard jab of a gun muzzle against your back that your fists stilled and Moira’s cold amusement over the intercom.

“You will,” Moira said smoothly, “Because when we took him from his home, we also took his wife and child; they will be killed if you don’t comply.”

“No, no, please!” Mobo tried to get up from under Huxley’s boot, but another Talon guard kicked him hard, sending him back into a curled position, “P-please, not my wife, not my daughter!”

You felt tears burn your eyes; every time--every single time--you had released your hold on the drones, they had fritzed and ended up in a critical failure. Some even exploded as soon as your control was gone. Your palms pressed into the glass.

“Please, don’t do this,” You begged, barely able to keep back the sobs that gathered in your throat, “Please, I don’t want to hurt him!”

“Then you had better gain better control, hmm?” Moira’s sarcastic voice filtered over the room and made the Talon guards chuckle.

You turned away from the glass and looked across the room; Mobo was released from under Huxley’s boot and he kneeled on the ground facing you. You swallowed and felt the tears begin to fall.

“Please, for my family,” Mobo clasped his hands in front of him, “I’ll do anything for them, just do what they say, for my family.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you swallowed; you had known this omnic for all of 20 minutes, but he didn’t deserve this. This was all to ‘train’ you; so you could be a weapon for Talon. This was all because of you. Mobo and his family were nothing more than innocent bystanders.

“I...I’m sorry,” You said quietly before you took a deep breath and closed your eyes.

Sending your control over his body was normal, just like you had practiced with the drones; the build up of energy, and then letting it flow from your body to his. What you didn’t expect was his voice, hovering in your mind.

_Not my family, please don’t hurt my family; Kaitlyn and I were going to take our daughter to be blessed by Tekhartha Genkaku--we were going to meet Kaitlyn’s parents after, please-_

“No, no,” You stepped back and grabbed your head, “No!”

_I will give all of myself, just let them live! Please, let them live!_

“Stop! Please, I want it to stop!” You screamed and your knees buckled under you, “Please, let them live!”

You weren’t sure who kicked you onto the ground, but it was Huxley’s cruel voice that broke through your screaming.

“Newsflash: they’re already dead.”

You screamed and snarled, launching yourself up at the nearest Talon guard. Your ears rang from gunfire and you were vaguely aware of Mobo flying at Huxley as your nails found their way against the skin of the guard who was within reach.

“Put the bot down!”

“NO!” You screamed and sent Mobo ducking and dodging toward the door. When his body exploded, you screamed again, “NO! NO NO NO!”

Moira and Ruesso watched it all happen from behind the glass of the two-way window. Ruesso’s mouth hung open in shock, and his hand was pressed against the window, “Moira, call them off, they’re going to kill her-”

“Shush,” Moira had just picked up the radio and listened to the panicked chatter on the other end for a moment, “She’s remotely activating all the drones in the facility.”

“ _What?!_ ”

Moira quickly activated the intercom, “Tranquilize her, now!”

Ruesso watched as Huxley pulled out the smaller gun and neither scientist could hear the small woosh of air that propelled the small dart into the meat of your hip; it was only seconds later that you dropped the ground, unconscious.

There was a moment of silence where everyone in both rooms simply stood quietly, letting the air clear of the mania that had taken control. Huxley was the first to move--he walked over to your limp body and kicked your side before he spat on you.

“That’s enough,” Moira hissed.

“Nguyen’s face is all scratched to hell!” Huxley snapped, “This bitch owes-”

“I said, _that’s enough_ ,” Moira’s voice made each member of the Talon guard freeze and physically step away from you, “Take your man to the medical unit; and Huxley,” He stopped and turned toward the glass that simply reflected the room stoically, “For your sake, you had better hope you didn’t do any damage to the asset.”

A shudder started at the base of Huxley’s spine, but he stiffened his posture and replied with a curt, “Yes, ma’am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updating a little earlier today since I'm gunna be busy later today/tonight. I love all the reviews I've gotten so far :3 I'm probably going to update the summary again, but mostly for small details, since I like to keep you guys in the loop and all that!
> 
> This chapter made me cry to write, honestly, lol. A part of me is scared none of you are going to get upset and that it was just me who fell apart xD Comment and let me know!
> 
> Just a reminder: if you guys think I'm missing a tag, or if anyone sees something that should have a trigger warning, _**Please! Let me know!**_ I understand triggers, and it literally takes me 10 seconds to update my tags and the chapter notes!


	8. Advanced Protocols

A week had passed since Mobo had been killed. A long, bitter, painful week; Ruesso had given you another surgery and like his previous three, he tried to explain to you why the surgery was needed, but you tuned it out. It didn’t matter anymore _why_ they were cutting you open; it never mattered. On top of it all, you didn’t trust him. Yes, he had gotten kinder over the long time you had been here, but kinder didn’t mean you were free; it didn’t mean he wouldn’t still cut into your brain and rewire you as if you were some machine.

Ruesso had once tried to confide in you that he had a granddaughter, and that you reminded him of her. At the time, the only thing you could think to reply was that he was crazy and to let you free, but now...Now there was just a vague sense of horror that despite him admitting that you made him think of his precious grandchild, he had still followed through with everything they put you through; all the things they had done to you.

Now your hair was freshly shaved again, with the addition of a new bandage that wrapped around your head. Your fingers brushed over the stubble slowly, trying to comfort yourself, but it wasn’t working. All you could hear in your head was Mobo’s last words: _I will give all of myself, just let them live! Please, let them live!_ Tears gathered in your eyes, and shame covered your body like a damp towel. Before, you had always held back, always tried to keep yourself steady, but now...now you barely felt human.

“Your safety while you work here is my primary concern.”

The new voice startled you and you quickly wiped your eyes--you would never give them the satisfaction and pleasure of your tears. Whoever was coming sounded...metallic? You moved yourself into a corner, and locked your eyes onto the metal bars of your cell.

Ruesso appeared first, his hands behind his back, but following him was…

An OR14? No, this one looked too new, too well put together; and you had never seen an OR14 with those strange horns and coloring...a customized one, then?

“Here the subject is,” Ruesso said, his voice betraying his nervousness, “As I said before, she’s highly unpredictable and tends to lie in order to gain sympathy...But we’re not entirely sure the threat she could pose, Orisa.”

“Understood,” Orisa answered, her head turning to scan the room, and it's occupant.

Ruesso hesitated for only a moment before he continued, “Why don’t we finish the tour of the facility? You’ll want to know all the exits and routes, I’m sure…”

“Please, continue, Dr. Ruesso,” Orisa said.

~*~

Efi watched the monitor she had set up in the hotel room she was sharing with her father; the main monitor was currently viewing what Orisa saw. Orisa’s scans were being fed into another, smaller screen, where the information was being broken down--the computer she brought wasn’t as powerful as the one she had back in her workshop, but she had to be able to carry it. Suffice to say, the huge server she had set up at home could barely be moved for cleaning and maintenance.

What Efi was currently stuck on, however, was the scans Orisa had gotten of the woman in the cell. Her approximate age, height and weight, but that was it. Orisa’s scan couldn’t get _anything_ else.

“Who are you?” Efi mumbled quietly.

“What? Who is who, Efi?” Gowon leaned over Efi’s shoulder, curious; most of the numbers and information passing over the screen meant little to him, but he saw the still image of the woman kneeling in the corner of what looked to be a prison cell, “Is that the one the Councilwoman warned about? The unknown experiment or something?”

“Yes; Dr. Ruesso just showed Orisa the cell, but-” Efi shook her head, “Her file doesn’t match the scan.”

“Hmm? What does that mean?”

Efi held up the tablet that had been in her lap, “See this? This is what they gave Orisa and I for information on the warehouse; and this-” She opened a particular file, “-this is her file. See? It says here that she was a criminal who joined up with Talon willingly, but when she got caught trying to sell information on them, Talon forced her into this experiment.”

Gowon nodded slowly, “Alright, so you said her file doesn’t match what Orisa’s scans told you; why?”

“I uploaded Interpol’s database on criminals, and as many local databases as I could find,” Efi said, “She doesn’t match any criminal big enough to interest Talon.”

“You uploaded-” Gowon looked down at Efi with a raised eyebrow, “Is that allowed?”

Efi looked back up at him and Gowon recognized the guilty twist of her fingers, as she fidgeted, “Well...no one _stopped_ me from doing it…”

“Efi…”

“But listen! The files are false! That’s what I’m trying to say!” Efi said quickly, hoping to convince her father before he laid out punishment, “And if we were lied to about this-”

Gowon pressed his lips together; her logic made sense, but he didn’t want to believe that they had stepped into something more dangerous than they could handle. He certainly didn’t want to have to say as much to Imani when she arrived the next day.

There were a hundred or more reasons they could have been lied to; there were just as many reasons for why Gowon wanted to leave well enough alone, and double the reasons why Efi now wouldn’t.

“Efi, Councilwoman Dimka believes that the Nigerian government is involved here-”

“Then why did they employ a felon?” Efi looked indignant.

“I-what?”

“Look!”

Efi pulled up the first scan Orisa had done--one on Dr. Ruesso himself, when he had met Orisa at the door of the facility. The usual statistics were there: 67 years old, 171.3 cm tall, 115 kg in weight, Central American origins…And wanted in 34 different countries for illegal human experimentation, 2nd degree murder, and eco-terrorism.

Gowon put a hand over his mouth, his mind racing, “This…This is much bigger than we were told; you’re mother is going to have to be delayed.”

“Papa?” Efi turned her head to look up at him.

“She will need to go speak with Councilwoman Dimka about this, while we continue to dig quietly on this end,” Gowon gently placed his hand on Efi’s back, “We’re involved now; backing out would be just as dangerous and pressing forward, I think.”

Efi’s lips split into a grin and she nodded in agreement, “We’ll figure it out!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys, I just finished writing Chapter 19 (and am about a third of the way through Chapter 20), and without any spoilers I'm just going to leave you my own words from a group chat that I'm in with a bunch of friends:
> 
> _**HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO WRITE MCCREE WITH A STRAIGHT FACE WHEN I'M LISTENING TO THE DREAM DADDY FAN SONG BY JT MACHINIMA??** _
> 
> [(This is the song I'm talking about xD)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VyXs3XSe_9k)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys are enjoying the progression of the story! Any and all questions are welcome! And can I just say that I love the father I wrote for Efi? Gowon is darling and just trying to be a good dad to his super genius daughter haha.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	9. Vital Moments

The words ‘I told you so’ never helped a situation, but Imani never felt so much like she deserved to say them than at the moment she arrived at the Numbani Capital Building, where she had arranged an emergency meeting with Councilwoman Amina Dimka.

The building itself was a gorgeous representation of Numbani: glistening white juxtaposed with dark glass; the flags of allied nations and city-states represented with their own flag. A large statue that depicted both omnics and humans, standing together; united and as one. It was the pride of Numbani--their city was a beacon of hope that peace with omnics could be reached, and Imani was proud to raise her daughter in such a place.

What she never expected out of her life was to waltz into this building in order to talk to one of the Councilmembers about a classified mission her 11 year-old daughter was currently undertaking for said Councilmember. Gowon had called the day before, just as Imani had finished packing her bags so she could join her husband and daughter--since she managed to move her schedule around, she was getting to spend a full 7 days in Okanu...or she would have, except her first day off was being spent as a go-between for her family and Amina Dimka. She still could make the last train of the day to Okanu, if the meeting was quick enough, but Imani prepared for the idea that she might have to stay home alone for another night.

“Mrs. Oladele,” The omnic secretary stood and offered a short, polite bow, “Councilwoman Dimka is expecting you; can I get you anything to drink?”

She offered a polite smile, “No, no, thank you...can I just go in?”

“Yes, allow me,” He walked around his desk and opened the door for her.

Imani thanked him and walked through the door, stopping only once to admire the extravagant decor that she suspected Amina had picked out herself. The back wall was completely made of glass and gave a spectacular view of the city, and even to the savanna that was just past the city’s walls; the office felt open and bright, even as Imani noticed the darker gray carpets. Shelves lined the walls around the door she had just come through, half filled with books, half filled with mementos and curious items. The walls on either side had grand pictures, newspaper clippings, and awards and certifications that belonged to Amina. All in all, it looked exactly how Imani expected an office for a Councilmember to look, and something about that fact put Imani on edge.

Maybe it was just her anxiety speaking.

“Mrs. Oladele, I’m glad to see you, though I’m worried,” Amina had been sitting in her chair, facing away from the door until the door itself closed; now she was walking around the desk and shaking Imani’s hand, “When you called and mentioned something urgent to do with Orisa and your family, my mind immediately jumped to the worst possible scenario-”

“No, no,” Imani quickly interrupted, shifting from one foot to another before she straightened her back and forced herself to speak calmly, “It isn’t anything immediately dangerous, but Efi...Efi and Orisa found a few things that...that worry them.”

Even as she tried to force herself to speak plainly, she found herself second guessing her words and pressed her lips together; Imani hoped it would get easier to talk to this woman soon.

“Found a few things?” Amina lead Imani toward her desk, and politely offered the mother one of the chairs in front before she walked around it to sit in her own chair, “What sort of things have they found?”

Imani pulled her purse into her lap and retrieved a large manila envelope, “Efi emailed a lot of things to me--I can’t decipher a lot of the technical things, but one thing Gowon said was about your contact, Dr. Ruesso-”

“Yes, he was the one hired by the Nigerian government,” Amina nodded slowly.

“Well, apparently, he’s an international criminal,” Imani said firmly, her confidence growing, “Orisa is programmed to recognize criminals that are in the system-”

“He wasn’t in our system,” Amina said, one of her eyebrows raised.

Imani faltered--was that really what Amina was going to get hung up on?

“...I just told you the Nigerian government as a felon leading my daughter through this Talon facility,” Imani said cooly.

Amina Dimka paused to study Imani Oladele. When the Councilwoman had met the woman in her home, she had been quiet; she offered a few questions in terms of the sort of danger Efi would be in, but otherwise had let her husband and daughter lead the conversation. Amina hadn’t expected this cool steel from the woman.

“Sorry, it's the nature of my job to take allegations with a hint of salt,” She tried to smooth over, “Politics and all--if your daughter is sure that Dr. Ruesso is a wanted man, than this certainly changes a few things...What else did Efi find?”

Imani relaxed a little and slid the envelope across to Amina, “Everything Efi is concerned about is in there; and more than a few things are about that experiment you mentioned, I think…”

Amina opened her mouth, but whatever she was going to say was drowned by the loud beep that came from her desk, along with the voice of her secretary.

“Pardon the intrusion, Councilwoman Dimka,” The secretary started, “There is an urgent call-”

“Hayde, I told you to screen all my calls,” Amina said, her eyebrows coming together, “I’m in a classified meeting.”

“I understand that, ma’am,” Hayde replied, “However, the phone call is from a man named Dr. Ruesso--he’s on your instant transfer list or I wouldn’t have-”

“No, no, transfer him,” Amina and Imani’s eyes met, and Imani felt as if her stomach would fall through the floor--she couldn’t explain it, couldn’t have even tried, but she knew, she just _knew_ something terrible had happened.

“Dr. Ruesso, you’re on speakerphone,” Amina said immediately as she pressed a button to answer the call, “I’m here with Efi Oladele’s mother.”

“What-Oh, oh, right,” Dr. Ruesso’s voice shook and his next words were all confirmation of Imani’s fears, “The subject escaped--Orisa was taken and Efi ran away to try and find them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we're now over halfway through with the first Arc of this fanfic (I'll be updating the summary when I get a chance) and once the first Arc is over, we will get to the start of the meat of the story! I'm having a blast writing this and I hope its reflecting in my writing haha
> 
> A slightly shorter chapter this time, but I think this is the shortest one--after this, they're pretty consistent in length.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	10. Everyone Falls

Orisa had been patrolling the facility for less than a full day when Ruesso came in to prep you for yet another surgery, and you decided enough was enough.

For the past three weeks, he and Moira had ‘trained’ you--if you call standing behind two way glass and yelling at you to ‘try harder’ training--in the ability they had spent years putting in you.

Honestly, if it hadn’t been for that escape attempt where you accidently activated that defunct OR15, you probably wouldn’t have known where to start as the scientists yelled at you. The drones had been easier than the OR15, and they fell under your command easily. Zeros and ones shifting and obeying your will while you strained and felt all the aches of your body intensify into white-hot pain. Ruesso had said the pain was because he needed to upgrade your chip.

Then Mobo had been shoved into your life.

You shouldn’t have stayed another day, but according to Ruesso, you had accidently activated every drone they had in the base the day Mobo died, and when you had been tranquilized, it left the drones to shutdown and explode, their circuits fried. That meant you were confined to your cell with no hope of help or escape.

Now...Now you had your hope, but at the cost of another.

You heard Orisa turn down your hallway and you sat near the metal bars, waiting. Would you really go through with this? If your theory about Orisa being an omnic was true, then there was the fact that you’d be ruining another life. You snorted bitterly; all the debate and wasted effort of governments and people who went back and forth on whether omnics were considered ‘alive’ or if they had ‘souls’ and you had the answer.

What else could that voice have been, if it wasn’t Mobo’s soul? Unable to fight the control you had on his body, unable to do more than to plead to a deity or the void that his family would be spared…

“Please step away from the bars,” Orisa’s voice cut through your thoughts and you jumped, looking up at her.

“I’m sorry,” You said quietly before you let your energy start to build up in your chest.

~*~

Efi and Gowon were just finishing up a room service breakfast when all of Efi’s equipment started to release shrill beeps and alarms. The sound had startled Gowon into stunned silence, but Efi was already in front of her strange set up that she had built on top of the hotel room’s desk. Her fingers were flying across the small keyboard, her eyes turning from one screen to the next.

Gowon slowly made his way over, nervously watching the machine slowly lose it's mind--or maybe it was meant to do this? Either way, he wasn’t entirely convinced the whole set-up wouldn’t self destruct. Efi didn’t seem to spare the lights or alarm any mind, now that she was sifting through the data pouring in quickly.

“I’m locked out,” She said, frustrated, “I can’t make Orisa respond to me--I have to take emergency control.”

“Emergency control?” He blinked slowly, “You mean taking control of Orisa’s body?”

“Yeah, I integrated it as an emergency recall in case Orisa’s personality core got damage, or in case someone tried to hack her.”

Efi’s body was tense as she typed, first on the small keyboard, then directly onto the screen to the left with one hand. Gowon let his eyes wander over the screens; they were flashing data and bright lights in equal measure and it was starting to make a headache to form behind his eyes. Then he saw something.

“Wait, wait,” He pointed to a screen that was behind the right one, “What’s that?”

Efi glanced at her father before she reached between the two monitors, “This? This is the visual for her personality core--it's so I can peak at her...AI...evolution…”

Efi froze, the words dropping from her lips like molasses; slow and hesitant.

“What-what are those words? Efi?”

“She’s...Orisa’s talking to someone _in_ her personality core…” Efi said quietly; he almost couldn’t hear her over the continued sound of the alarm. As if she just realized they were still blaring, she typed a command and sat back in the computer chair, reading the words as they appeared on screen.

_OR15-A: ALERT! ALERT! HACKER DETECTED!_

_^$3r: Oh...you’re not an omnic?_

_OR15-A: PLEASE IDENTIFY YOURSELF._

_u$4r: It doesn’t matter who I am anymore. They took everything from me._

_OR15-A: YOU ARE VIOLATING MY PROTOCOLS. PLEASE STOP ASSAULTING THE SECURITY GUARDS._

_@se7: They’re not security guards; they’re Talon. Ruesso lied to you. And can you stop shouting?_

_OR15-A: ....Please stop. Taking life is not the answer._

_u$e7: Do you have any idea what they did to me? How many years I’ve been missing with no one trying to find me? Just….please stop. I don’t wanna try and get you to understand._

_OR15-A: You have been a captive of Talon? Is Dr. Ruesso with Talon as well?_

_^ser: You catch on quick huh? Ruesso and O’Deorain are the quacks who run this place. I dunno where O’Deorain is, but Ruesso better hope I don’t see him on the way out, that sick sad1st2c b@$t@rd d4s4$ve$ t0 ROT._

Efi winced as a few lines were scrambled, leaving lines of random numbers and code exposed as if there was a rip in the very program. As lines progressed, the damage seemed to repair itself. The young girl felt a pit open up in her stomach; Orisa was talking to the woman in the cell, Efi was completely convinced even though she had no idea what was going on, other than the screen that showed Orisa walking the hallways of the warehouse, shooting the guards as they tried to stop her. The woman was being open, she wasn’t lying or holding back.

_use7: ...Sorry, I still can’t control this very well._

_OR15-A: You are able to control omnics?_

_USER: Not just omnics. Drones, too. It’s what they engineered me to do. I’m...I’m not very good at the disconnecting part._

_OR15-A: Please elaborate._

_USER: When I disconnect from you, Orisa, you’ll probably die. I’m so sorry. I was hoping you were an old OR15 model drone. I’m so so sorry, I never wanted this._

Efi almost screamed and stood from the chair. She moved quicker than Gowon had ever seen the girl move before as she pulled things together in a messenger bag. She pulled a palm-sized tablet onto her wrist and double-tapped it with her middle finger to turn it on. Gowon already saw the feed that showed Orisa’s point of view.

“Efi, what are you doing? Ef-Efi, listen to me,” He was holding up his hands and moved so that he was between the girl and the door, “Efi, you cannot go out there alone; give me a moment and I’ll get dressed-”

“There isn’t time!” Efi screamed, and Gowon had to try and dive for her as she surprised him by jumping up onto the bed and passing him completely, “She’s going to erase Orisa!”

“Efi! Wait!” Gowon was only wearing a pair of cotton pants. He quickly grabbed a shirt. There was no time for socks; he put his shoes on barefoot and grabbed the keycard and his wallet before racing out of the room after his daughter.

He thought he saw her duck into the staircase and tore off after her; the door closed just as he reached it and he ran into the door before he could press the bar. Even as he opened the door, he could hear the one below bursting open.

“Efi! EFI!” He called, his heart in his throat.

The lobby was empty, save for a few who were still at the provided continental breakfast. He slowed long enough to hover at the desk, where a woman was on the phone.

“My daughter--a little girl, did you see her-”

“I’m sorry, no all rooms are booked,” The woman ignored Gowon completely.

He stepped back, anger and fear pooling in his stomach; he turned where he stood and turned one way and then another, trying to see if he could catch a glimpse of his child.

“Sir, sir!”

Gowon turned quickly to look at a small old woman who slowly walked toward him, her walker shuffling in front of her.

When she saw that she had his attention, she continued, “A little girl ran out that side exit, just a moment ago.”

Her curled finger pointed toward a hallway just past the front desk and Gowon was already moving, as he called back, “Thank you!”

The streets weren’t crowded--in fact, for a city this size, it seemed much too quiet, Gowon thought--but he already had no idea which way Efi would have taken. The answer came almost immediately. The warehouse; that was where Orisa was and that was definitely where Efi would be going.

Gowon took off down the street; he pushed himself to run faster, ignoring the burn of his lungs and the stitch that was already forming in his side. Efi was running straight toward danger, no thought to herself; the child was twice as brave as any soldier, and ten times as smart. Gowon found these facts easy to ignore in the face of the fact that his 11 year-old daughter could die at any moment.

“Efi!” He screamed, her name echoing off the buildings on either side of him, leaving him with a chill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHH ORISA AND READER AND EFI, OH NO!
> 
> Okay, I probably had too much fun trying to plan Reader's escape, but we're getting closer to the end of this arc! I hope you guys enjoy what I'm putting out, cause I'm still rearing and roaring to go!
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	11. My Soul

You knelt on Orisa’s back, your arms wrapped around her shoulders as she quickly moved through the hallways. You tried to ignore her voice as she pleaded with you to stop; it was worse when she went silent.

Once you had taken control of her body, it was easy work for her to rip the bars off of your cell door. It, of course, alerted the Talon goons nearby, but luckily for you, it was easy to have Orisa’s body follow its own systems pathways to defend herself. Basically, her body already knew how to do what you wanted; you just needed to think of what you wanted Orisa to do and her body would do it.

The both of you froze when you turned a corner and Ruesso was just entering the hallway from a side door. The alarm was blaring overhead and you knew he was likely trying to escape the facility. Anger, rage and spite filled your stomach, but you didn’t move as he froze. Ruesso’s eyes were wide; he never expected that you’d actually take control of Orisa.

After Mobo, neither he nor Moira could coax (or in Moira’s case, threaten) you to even take control of simple drone systems they built from scratch and Ruesso was convinced it would take your pacification in order for you to take control of another omnic.

Yet here the both of you were. You, riding the back of an omnic, totally and completely in control; he, trying to flee from the facility. Maybe it was fitting that he face you now, with your freedom gained through destruction and control; maybe it was the final sign that they had succeeded. They broke your will, and you forcibly built it back up all by yourself.

That didn’t change that he didn’t want to die today. He turned and sprinted for the opposite end of the hallway, knowing the door he had just left through was already locked now that the alarm was blaring. You grit your teeth, hating that he was trying to escape. It spoke to how little control you really had when Orisa’s gun came up and started firing before you could yell, “No!”

Ruesso cried out in pain and stumbled, but managed to turn the corner anyway. You saw the bright red of blood trailing behind him and you hated the sense of satisfaction that came with seeing it. Ruesso was a sadistic ass, in your opinion. Let him see how it feels for someone else to be holding the reigns.

Either way, you could hear more heavy boots echoing down the hallway and you knew that you had to leave now, or you’d never get away again.

Orisa was definitely built as an all around protector; a built in shield was deployed as soon as she detected enemies and her gun unloaded, passing through the shield easily while the enemy’s bullets bounced off harmlessly--well, perhaps not harmlessly. You could see cracks appearing in the edges of the shield and you were about to panic when Orisa backed around a corner and put up another barrier. Her logistical, robotic side was processing input faster than you could even notice anything and it was a relief when you turned to look behind you both and saw sunlight.

Soldiers thought twice about turning the corner and Orisa took the opportunity to turn and make her way outside; you took a deep breath, even as Orisa threw another shield over the exit you just made your way out of.

The warehouse was as rusty and dirty looking on the outside as it looked on the inside. The only places inside that were clean--that you had seen, at least--were the operating room that they tinkered with you in, and the training room. Both felt dirty to you, at least; the clean white walls and floors couldn’t hide the terror and pain you had painted them with.

“Stop the asset! Retrieve her at all costs!”

That voice you knew. Your insides quaked with both anger and fear as you turned to see Huxley and his commander lead their team out through another exit, all immediately diving for cover. You had no idea how Orisa was going to handle this, but you didn’t want to be taken back. You _wouldn’t_ be taken back.

As if your sudden stroke of will encouraged Orisa, she suddenly blasted out a large green orb into the middle of where all the team was hiding behind cover, preparing to attack. Your mouth fell open as you saw long tendrils of green shoot out to touch different members of the Talon soldiers and then the orb imploded, dragging every member toward its center.

And then Orisa was firing into the midst of them, taking each down with a few bullets and definitely killing many. You felt your stomach clench and you wanted to throw up, but Orisa was already turning away and heading for the street. You just had to make it to the channel; you could jump in and ride it to the ocean, or follow along its banks, if you were lucky enough to make it there without anyone following you.

Orisa could hold a decent pace, since she didn’t have to stop for bystanders or cars--the streets were practically empty, even though you knew it wasn’t a small town. It was almost eerie, except you didn’t want to focus on it; let the people of this town rot, you thought. They watched, they turned away when you asked for help. Let them rot.

The channel was just coming into view when you heard a voice from behind you.

“Wait! Wait, don’t take Orisa! Please!”

Orisa’s body stopped and you turned to see a young--so young, you marveled--child running toward the both of you. Her dark skin was accented by white paint (or were they tattoos? You weren’t sure) and her hair was pulled back into a voluminous ponytail. On her wrist was a holographic image, showing herself and you realized that the camera must have been Orisa’s eyes.

Orisa, who had been silent up to this point, immediately pleaded with you.

_“Do not harm Efi. Please, do not harm her.”_

Then it clicked.

“Did you...Are you Orisa’s creator?” you asked, slowly sliding down Orisa’s back until you were standing next to the omnic.

While most adults would have been cautious and stood back, waiting to see what you would do, this child ran forward, making you take a few steps back. Her attention was completely on Orisa, as she started checking Orisa for damage and opening panels to try and plug into the omnic.

“I’m sorry,” You said immediately, “I...I didn’t want to hurt her.”

“You said if you disconnected, that Orisa’s personality core would be damaged, didn’t you?” The young girl turned her head, her eyes glaring, “You’re going to kill her!”

“I…” You almost said ‘I didn’t have a choice’ but did you? Maybe if you tried to explain to Orisa the situation, or if you had fought harder, or ran faster…”I don’t know what will happen, but every droid they ever made me control was fried.”

Efi stopped and turned to look at you, “So...you really can control Omnics and droids with your mind?”

You pressed your lips together and stepped back, “The less you know about me, the better...I have to leave, and I won’t let them catch me again.”

“Wait! Just wait! I know people who can help, please!” Efi started to panic, “Please don’t kill Orisa!”

You heard angry shouting and the sound of guns going off and you stepped back again, “No; they’ll take me away and no one could help me.”

“No-”

You closed your eyes and even though time was of the essence, you tried, you really tried to pull away slowly, to do as little damage as possible…

Even as you pulled back, Orisa’s body shuddered and fell limp, sparks and loud creaking leaving her carapace; you felt tears build up and start to force their way out of your closed eyes, but you just turned and started running, bare foot and alone.

“Orisa? Answer me! ORISA!” 

Efi’s screams echoed behind you and you just pushed yourself to run faster. You couldn’t stop--you _wouldn’t_ stop. Your freedom was here, in front of you and it was yours to lose. No one would lay claim on you again. You would fight tooth and nail to be sure of it.

_You would be free._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	12. Endings

Efi was found a few hours after that, sobbing quietly over Orisa’s body; she continued to try and fix Orisa with nothing but the small computer on her wrist and the few tools that she carried with her in the pouch on her waist.

“Orisa, wake up!” Efi demanded, and stomped her foot when her father approached her, “Papa, I can’t access Orisa’s personality core anymore! And her control box is dented closed!”

Efi tried to wipe her face, but she just ended up smearing tears and snot over her cheek, “I n-need a crowbar or a 5/8ths socket wrench! I need to connect to her core; I need to check on her. I need-”

Gowon’s heart broke when he heard Efi’s voice crack; he reached out and touched her shoulder, gently urging her away from Orisa.

“N- _No_!” Efi pulled away and started to try and pry the panel open with her fingertips, “Orisa is still there! I need a crowbar, please!”

“Efi…” Gowon tried to soothe with his voice, “Efi, even if Orisa is there, we can’t fix her out here; lets get her back to the hotel.”

Even after he spoke, Efi didn’t stop trying to pry the panel open and ignored the wait her nails split under the strain, tears falling freely, “I-I can’t leave her. Orisa’s afraid o-of the dark.”

It was just then that Imani and Councilwoman Dimka arrived by car, both women hurrying closer as a few of the remaining Talon soldiers stood guard. Imani reached out and pulled Efi into a tight hug.

“Oh child, you scared me so badly!” Imani was crying with Efi, “I’m so glad your safe, baby; oh thank the Iris…”

Councilwoman Dimka stood near Gowon, “I am so sorry; I had no idea things would turn out like this. I…”

“No...no, we knew we were stepping into something dangerous,” Gowon said quietly, “We just didn’t think this would be the cost.”

There was something bittersweet about this scene. Efi was safe and sound, if not devastated; their worst fears were just nightmares that they could try to to forget now. What no one had ever thought though: they had quietly been fearing for Orisa, too. The parts of themselves that had once believed Orisa to be indestructible, a modern day superhero, and now she was a broken husk beside them. Unmoving, unspeaking, gone.

“We need to get inside,” Imani stood, holding Efi against her chest; it was nearly a comical sight if it weren’t for Efi’s fit.

“No! We can’t leave Orisa! She’s afraid of the dark, I can’t leave her alone!”

“I’ll stay with her, Efi,” Gowon suddenly said, making everyone in the circle look at him, but he simply continued, “I’ll keep her company out here.”

“Gowon, are you…” Imani started, but she felt Efi still in her arms and she looked down at her child.

“D-don’t leave her alone, Papa!” Efi pleaded, “I’ll be back with all my stuff so I can fix her!”

“Tomorrow,” Imani finally said, “Tonight, I want you to eat something.”

Efi was out of fight, her body just leaned into her mother’s. She just wanted everything to be _right_ again.

“Don’t leave her in the dark,” Efi pleaded quietly.

“Can I borrow your flashlight?” Gowon turned to the nearest guard.

Huxley was about to tell Gowon where he could put the flashlight, when the commander of their group stepped forward and handed Gowon his own light, “Here; I’ll stand watch with you.”

The commander glared at Huxley before he ordered, “The rest of you are on patrol for the asset.”

Councilwoman Dimka watched Imani take Efi back toward the car, before she spoke to Gowon, “I’ll pay for a tow truck to come pick up Orisa--perhaps the hotel would be willing to let us put her in the parking garage; for Efi.”

Gowon nodded, “We’d be in your debt, Ms. Dimka, thank you.”

~*~

Efi let her mother tuck her into bed after they ate a quiet meal with Amina Dimka, but it just made Efi feel sick so she didn’t eat much. The darkness of the room was nearly complete, except for the calming light of the television that danced on the walls while her mother dozed next to her.

Her mind raced as she tried to process everything. You had said a few things--’ _They’re not security guards; they’re Talon._ ’ and ‘ _Ruesso and O’Deorain are the quacks who run this place._ ’ in particular...You had little reason to lie, since you were free. 

The biggest thing was if you _were_ telling the truth, than Ruesso had lied, Dimka had lied--or had been horribly mislead herself--and it had resulted in Orisa’s capture and disrepair. Efi clenched her fists, and moisture gathered in her eyes again. She didn’t know who’s fault it was--whether it was you, because of what you did, or Ruesso, for apparently experimenting on you, or Talon because they were behind it all, but Efi wanted _someone_ to pay for this.

Reality tried to crush her: what could she do? Orisa was out of commission until Efi could figure out how to repair her; and she was now suspicious of Dimka.

The answer hit her almost as quickly and she reached out to pull her wrist computer toward her. She quickly found the contact information she was looking for and she saw Athena’s glowing insignia light up her screen.

“How can I help you, Ms. Oladele?”

Normally, Efi would correct her and encourage Athena to call her ‘Efi’, but now…

“I need to speak to Winston, please,” Efi said quietly, swallowing hard, “Orisa and I are in trouble.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will not lie, I cried with Efi here :<
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	13. From Past Experience

Angela Zeigler stood back from the door that should have opened for her nearly an hour ago. Well, opened for all of them.

Reinhardt Wilhelm--another face from the previous iteration of Overwatch--leaned against the wall near the door, his arms crossed while he dozed lightly; Lena Oxton was pacing in a figure-8 pattern not far away.

The door they happened to be waiting on belonged to an old friend and previous Overwatch Agent, Torbjorn Lindholm. Torbjorn had been at the intercom that day (unlike the previous 3 when Angela had come to try and coax him out of his workshop) and had seemed excited about talking to Reinhardt, and even teased Lena when she called under Reinhardt’s arm.

Angela had been hopeful when Torbjorn had said he would open the door soon to let them in, but now it was pushing 70 minutes…

Just as Angela started to entertain the temptation to spam the intercom button, the door released a little pressurized air and hissed while it rolled to one side. The three looked at each other briefly before they walked into the open door. The lights were low and a bad feeling began to brew in Angela’s stomach. This wasn’t like the Torbjorn that she knew; he always had lights as bright as possible to aid his tinkering.

“Keep an eye,” Reinhardt said through his heavy accent, “I don’t like this.”

“Aye aye,” Lena answered.

All three of them jumped when the door slid shut behind them with an audible thunk. The sun had just been setting when the door slid open, so there wasn’t much difference in the light quality, but Angela was beginning to feel as if they had been lead into a trap.

The sound of one of Torbjorn’s turrets powering up sent all three of them into muscle memory, dropping into ready stances with weapons out. They all saw the red light of the turret.

“Tor, aim the turret away,” Reinhardt felt naked without his armor, but who would have thought that he’d have needed it against Torbjorn? They were like brothers, “What are you playing at, old friend?”

Lena prepped her blink, knowing she’d have to play it by ear to draw the turret’s fire without getting hit-

“Now that I’ve got all your attentions,” Torbjorn’s voice came from the shadows behind his turret and he quickly flipped the light on over his head. His turret was indeed homed in on them, and it was the man himself who was holding the switch, “I hoped I could explain something to you before the three of you lost yer marbles.”

“What are you talking about, Tor?” Angela had grabbed her pistol and now gripped the handle tightly, “You have us under a turret.”

“I know, but I don’t wanna have to explain this multiple times, see?” Torbjorn shrugged, “What I’m talking about is something that any of you could reject out of hand.”

“Just _what_ are you talking about, love?”

Torbjorn turned on another light and the three of them froze, their stares locked onto the new view. It was an SST Laboratories Siege Automaton E54--often better known by the name “Bastion"--and it was watching the exchange between Torbjorn and his three allies with apparent interest. It was covered in moss and dirt, but it looked as if someone had started to try and clean it off.

Angela felt her stomach drop and suddenly felt that they had all come unprepared--Lena could blink away for a little bit, but even she couldn’t outrun two turrets for very long with all escape routes blocked. Reinhardt might have been able to overpower a Bastion in his prime, but now Angela worried he wouldn’t be able to do it even if he were carrying his armor in his back pocket.

As for herself...Her Valkyrie Suit and Staff were back at her hotel room, ready for a moment’s notice, except for this moment of course. Her pistol would likely be better used by throwing it directly at Torbjorn and hope she managed to knock him unconscious.

“Now, I know what y’all are gonna say,” Torbjorn held up his hands almost placatingly, “And I thought it too: oh the big scary Bastions, come back from the wild to attack! But this one’s different, see?”

As if on cue, a bright yellow bird suddenly fluttered from the rafters and landed on the the Bastion unit and twittered a short song; the Bastion turned its head toward the bird and released a long stretch of beeps and pings that almost...sounded like singing? Angela felt her pistol lowering despite herself.

“Alright, Tor,” Angela said, making Reinhardt and Lena glance over at her, “Just what are you trying to say?”

“This Bastion has broken it's protocol; it's acting outside of it's programing and I’ve been trying to figure out why,” Tor put his hands on his hips, “As far as I can tell, I think it's spontaneous AI.”

Lena actually gasped and her guns disappeared, “Tor, you serious? That’s amazing!”

“Now, wait,” Reinhardt held up his hands and shook his head, “Spontaneous AI isn’t supposed to be possible; it was something people made up.”

“I have worked on turrets, drones and robots all my life, and I would have agreed with you, old friend,” Torbjorn suddenly spoke in a quiet voice, his eyes straying toward the Bastion unit, “But I can’t deny that there’s something different ‘bout this one.”

Angela let her hands fall to her sides now and she put her pistol away, “Are you willing to bet all our lives on that?”

“I’ve been bettin’ my own just fine,” Torbjorn grumbled back, finally deactivating the turret and stepping around it to properly greet the three of them, “Ya all look old, by god--except for you, kiddo; still baby faced, eh?”

Lena pouted, “I’m almost 27, now, old man.”

Reinhardt glanced at the Bastion, unable to stop watching the way it played with the bird, singing to it or repeating it. He was brought back to the moment when Torbjorn reached out and clasped hands with the much taller man. 

“Have you been well?” Reinhardt asked.

“Better’n you; got lazy in retirement, huh?” Torbjorn arched his back to look up at Reinhardt and both Lena and Angela glanced at each other before turning away to hide their shared smiles.

“So, who’s going to explain to Winston that we’re bringing a Bastion home?” Lena put her hands on her hips and leaned around the group to look at the--well, she supposed it was an omnic now.

Angela quickly shook her head as Reinhardt and Torbjorn glanced at her, “Oh, oh no; this one is firmly in Tor’s hands. I won’t be sucked into this one.”

Lena giggled and folded her hands behind her head before adding, “At least it's Winston; can you imagine explaining this to Jack?”

The other three froze and stared at Lena for a few seconds in silence before they looked at each other and started to laugh.

“Oh, no; none of that for me,” Reinhardt shook his head, “For Jack it's better to ask forgiveness than permission.”

“Or better to not say anything at all,” Torbjorn added, “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt the lad.”

“Normally, I wouldn’t condone this sort of thing, but...they are right about Jack,” Angela smiled warmly, “But for now, we’ll report in and leave the rest for tomorrow.”

The Bastion tilted its head, listening to the words that passed between the humans. It was gibberish, as far as it could tell; but really, it was starting to see the patterns. Something it could learn, then? Ganymede landed on the half-formed nest that the bird was still adding to--now it held small pieces of cloth, stolen from the worn, oil-stained rags that littered the workshop. The sounds...repeating, something familiar…

Bastion? Was that its designation? Whether or not there was a right answer, it decided it liked the sound of the word. Bastion was it's designation--name?

Ganymede twittered and wove another length of muddled red fabric through the twigs. Bastion beeped and whistled it's approval.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooops, I missed my update yesterday, haha! Sorry about that; life got in the way and I forgot about it. Oh well, back on schedule today!
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	14. Rendezvous

Mei yawned and stretched as the Overwatch transport jet finally settled on the ground again. A 12 hour flight was never any fun, but especially not after being suddenly woken up in the middle of the night by Winston.

“Orisa and Efi need our help,” Winston had said firmly, “We have to leave at once.”

Now they were in the quietest city Mei had ever experienced before; it reminded her of the Antarctic base, just after everyone had turned in for bed--you might find someone still awake, but the base felt empty and abandoned when you were alone.

Her mind snapped away from the thought as it almost turned down a darker path. To distract herself, she glanced at the group.

Winston and Jack were speaking together as they waited for Efi to come down from her hotel room; apparently some of the information that had given by the child had them both worried, but neither of them of briefed the team yet. Lucio had been dragged to one side of the hotel lobby by a few fans who had recognized him on sight. Mei then glanced at the other two who had come along.

Jamison had whined all the way to the hotel about being tired until Mako had relented and let the skinny junker climb up onto his shoulders. Now it was blessedly silent, except for the few strange noises Jamie would make in his sleep. Mako didn’t seem like he noticed the weight at all and stood stoically near the door, making people rush past him hoping to not catch his masked eye.

As if he felt her stare, he turned his head toward her slowly and she tensed before turning away. The two junkers were something completely out of Mei’s comfort zone and criminals to boot...She tried to forget that technically, they all were breaking the law now. Mei hadn’t thought twice about being recalled to work for Overwatch, and while the familiarity was a comfort she didn’t revel in the idea that jail could be waiting for her or her friends.

“Efi,” Winston greeted, drawing the attention of their group, “Let’s go see Orisa.”

Efi had just stepped into the lobby, looking more tired than any 11 year-old should. Mei felt her heart break a little; Winston had shared that something had happened and that Orisa was in disrepair with no word on whether she would recover at all--Mei found herself glancing at Snowball, who floated among the group happily and when Efi led them toward the hotel’s parking garage, Mei moved closer and gently touched Efi’s shoulder.

“I know this is hard, watching a friend hurt and broken,” Mei said quietly, “But we’re here for you, Efi.”

Efi felt tears burn her eyes again, but she nodded, “Thank you...is that your friend?” She motioned to Snowball as the small floating personality chirped next to Mei’s head.

“Yes, Snowball is my best friend,” Mei said easily, and smiled.

Perhaps this settled Efi, or maybe she was able to grab some composure, because she offered Mei a smile before she pushed the door open and lead the group to the broken omnic settled in the parking space closest to the door. They could see the small setup that Efi must have worked on putting together in order to start repairs. Orisa had burns and dents--likely from bullets or weapons--and more than a few scuffs, but she had stopped sparking hours ago and Efi was finally able to get the control panel open. One of the monitors showed a diagnostics test and they could see the wire running from Orisa to the computer.

“Winston,” Mei felt herself say quietly, “I think it's time you told us what happened…”

Efi had to help fill in a lot of the blanks, and there was more that Winston and Jack supposed rather than knew, but there were things that all three of them were sure of.

Talon wasn’t cleared out from that base; Efi had been lied to. Either by the Nigerian government or by Councilwoman Dimka and both options were worrisome. It meant the soldiers who had been with Efi’s father all night, the same soldiers who had retreated to the base, worked for Talon and were unpredictable.

However, it was the news about the woman kept captive in the base that had everyone perked up and listening, even Jamie.

“Hold on there,” Jamie ignored Mako’s shrugging to dislodge him and slid to the ground on his own, “Are you tellin’ me there’s a sheila out there who can _control_ these hunks of scrap?”

He motioned toward Orisa and Efi was nearly immediately after him.

“Orisa is _not_ scrap! She’s a hero!” If Jack wouldn’t have put a hand on her shoulder, Mei wondered if the small girl wouldn’t have launched herself at the much taller man.

“They’re all scrap; just sometimes they’re considered ‘pre-scrap’,” Jamie laughed his high pitched laugh and leaned forward to study Orisa as if he hadn’t noticed Efi’s emotional outrage, “This one looks close to the junkheap, though.”

Mako rumbled--something that the others assumed to be an agreement--before Mei felt her anger boil over.

“Nǐ cūlǔ! You’re nothing but a bully!” Mei clenched her fists tightly.

Jamie seemed unconcerned as he turned his head to look at Mei, “I prefer the term ‘Freedom fighter’; or ‘Overwatch Agent’ seems accurate enough.”

He laughed again and Winston had to stop Mei from lashing out again.

“We need to focus on the here and now,” Winston straightened his glasses, “Getting Orisa fixed up and checking her personality core is top priority, but we also need to clear out that Talon base and find as much information as we can on what they were actually doing there.”

“And we need to do it quickly, before they wipe their data or burn the place to the ground,” Jack added, “So this is how we’re going to do it. Winston, you and Efi are going to wait here and continue working on Orisa; the rest of us are rolling out. Efi, do you still have blueprints of the base?”

Efi swelled with pride as she quickly ran to her workstation and pulled out a tablet, “I still have everything they gave me--most of the personnel files were falsified, but Orisa was able to confirm the blueprints herself.”

Jack nodded, “Thank you; now the rest of you get over here and we’ll make a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know we've been away from the reader for a bit (and we won't get back to reader until chapter 16), but like I said before I really _really_ want to try and expand the storyline and try to follow/keep up with as many of the characters as possible! I hope its working out, haha.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	15. Operation: Infiltration

Roadhog ignored Junkrat’s rambling as the smaller man continued to set up the ‘distraction’ that they were in charge of. The task brought the thought that Jack had his ear closer to the ground than Roadhog had originally thought, since he practically asked them to recreate their attempt at ‘going legit’ as Junkrat kept putting it.

“I mean, Sheila is cold as ice, but did you see those beautiful browns?” Junkrat rambled more and Roadhog grunted, “Now, don't act that way, she’ll come around; you’ll see! Mei will be drawn by my natural charisma!”

As he finished, they ducked around the corner and waited for Jack’s signal.

They didn't have to wait long; only a minute passed before Jack was commanding through their earpieces, “Que distraction--tell us when you have their attention.”

Junkrat was still rambling away, not even pretending to listen, so Roadhog replied in his deep gravelly voice, “Understood.” And smacked Junkrat on his back.

“And she’ll see-What? Oh, alright,” He pressed the detonator and blew a hole into the metal siding of the warehouse.

Both of them leapt forward and into the hole. There were no soldiers yet, but Junkrat simply rushed forward and put a bear trap in front of one of the doors that lead into this room--he places a mine at another and Roadhog covered the third. Just as Junkrat’s mine hit the floor, Roadhog started firing when the first of at least of a dozen soldiers suddenly appeared.

The first two Talon soldiers were cut down and a third was injured before the rest wised up and dove back into the hallway for cover.

Roadhog used this moment to reload and report, “Talon is here; go.”

“Wilco,” Jack breathed and then the radio went silent.

Now it was up to the junkers to clear out the Talon soldiers that had arrived.

The sound of Junkrat’s bear trap was a shock of grating metal, only drowned out by the scream of whoever set it off--of course, the scream was quickly overtaken by an explosion. Another explosion meant that both of Junkrat’s traps were set off.

Still, Roadhog focused on the door ahead of him. He hooked a soldier dumb enough to try and race out into the room; a single shot to his face put him down. A high pitched laughter from Junkrat and another few detonated bombs told him that Junkrat was keeping the side entrances covered. It only took a few minutes before the junkers had cleared the remaining soldiers and stood in the debris of the chaos.

“This is Junkrat; we've cleared this area!” He giggled, “I know you all are impressed, no need to shower me with praise-”

“Get to your next objective,” Jack snapped over the radio.

“How do ya like that, Roadie? No praise for the work,” Junkrat scoffed.

The radio must have still been on, because Roadhog thought he heard Lucio laugh.

Roadhog pressed forward and Junkrat raced around his wide stomach to get ahead of the bodyguard.

“Now, now; _I’m_ the leader,” Junkrat insisted, before he came to a full stop when the hallway split off in multiple directions, “Alright!...Which way?”

Roadhog would have been glad that his mask hid his eyes so he could roll them without notice, but Junkrat always seemed to be able to tell when Roadhog did it anyway.

“Oi! I don't need yer sass, Hog!”

Roadhog pointed toward the left and Junkrat took off at an uneven pace as if they had never stopped.

~*~

Mei quietly eased herself into the chair in front of the terminal, typing quietly. Even with the junker’s distraction, there was no telling how many Talon soldiers were actually at this base--while Mei wasn't a stranger to trying to hack into a computer or server, she had never had to do it while keeping her senses open, just in case someone stumbled onto her on accident.

She had expected to find a password at the very least, but so far there was nothing. It didn't bode well and Mei was getting antsier as she delved deeper and deeper into the computer’s hard drive and then connected to the site’s server.

Still, no password, no defenses, not even a firewall from what she could tell. It was just...empty.

Mei jumped when a few explosions rattled the walls, but simply rolled her eyes. If those two weren't careful, they would bring down the whole warehouse on top of all of their heads.

“Bù fù zérèn de zuìfàn,” Mei muttered before she focused on the terminal again.

“Lucio, Mei; report,” Jack’s voice was suddenly in her ear and Mei sighed.

“The computers are wiped; same for the server,” Mei said quietly, “There’s nothing left.”

“Same here, boss,” Lucio added, “Nothing left on the computers _or_ in writing.”

That simply begged for the question that Jack asked, “Then why was Talon still here, guarding this place?”

Jack looked around the lab as he asked. There was a lot he could guess simply from the setup. An operating room, used and cleaned recently; labeled vials in handwriting he didn’t recognize. He started to pull open drawers and cabinets, and kept an ear out for anyone coming.

The answer came from the last place any of them expected.

“This is Winston, overriding radio silence,” The gorilla cut over the radio, “Abandon mission; I repeat, abandon mission.”

“Confirm command, Winston,” Jack asked and Mei winced from the tone he used, “Why are we abandoning the mission?”

“Dr. Ruesso is in Overwatch custody.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoooooops, i missed another update haha. Sorry, lovelies--my only defense is that my younger sister had a party yesterday and since I"m an adult, I worked the whole time. Sooooo, here's another chapter (and if you guys want a bonus chapter today, maybe leave a comment? ;D)
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	16. Mandatory Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to post another chapter today, all because of the sweetie pie, Tscheitlin~

Ruesso winced as he shifted in his hospital bed; in all the excitement and terror, he had hoped he would be overlooked, forgotten about. That was until the small black girl who had created Orisa had lead the huge talking gorilla into his room and squashed any plans he had to contact Moira or Maximilien.

They hadn’t pelted him with questions, like he had expected; but the gorilla--known as Winston, apparently--had called to his team over an hour ago and now his single hospital room was filled with people of all sorts of shapes, sizes and…

Ruesso’s eyes glanced from Roadhog, to Efi, to Mei, to Winston…

Moira had warned him about Overwatch, but their Talon facility had been so secretive, so off the grid...Ruesso wasn’t an idiot. He’d known something was up when they had gotten the orders from above that Orisa would be brought in as a security measure. Even knowing that the asset hated taking over omnics, hated being used, hated the surgeries, the experiments, they had brought Orisa in, and now Ruesso wondered at it all.

His wonderings were cut short as the questions started to come.

“We know you worked for Talon,” Jack started harshly, his arms crossed, “Just what were you doing at that facility?”

Ruesso was at a crossroads and he had a feeling that he knew which was the right decision.

“I was commissioned to surgically implant a device into a living human to help said human decipher the binary code of machines,” Ruesso answered cleanly, and folded his hands in his lap.

The group sat quietly and Ruesso wasn’t sure if they were absorbing the information, were shocked that he answered, or maybe they weren’t sure what to ask next. Still, he waited silently.

“Why?” Mei was the one who asked, the shock evident on her face, “Why would a human need to do that in their mind?”

“Need is easy,” Ruesso waved his hand; the question bored him, “Humans have wanted to interface with machines since before we ever touched Artificial Intelligence and many of the world’s top hackers covet skills like mine-”

“Sombra,” Jack suddenly said, realization hitting him.

Ruesso nodded, “Her surgery was much more focused and extensive--being able to interface with any machine at a touch, and with a system that worked as fast as the human mind...up until now, Sombra was my greatest success--though, admittedly, I was part of a larger team for that particular project.”

The group glanced at each other, even as Winston pushed, “But this project...this woman that hacked Orisa-”

“Took control,” Ruesso corrected, “Hacking changes primary directives on the baseline level, where input is given by an outside source; what we did was similar, but different. We wanted there to be no trace of hacking, no proof that these machines were under any influence other than their own will.”

As if it made it click, Winston sat back on his rear, “You wanted this woman to create chaos and in-fighting.”

“She would have been the greatest tool in creating conflict between humans and omnics; even that ridiculous order--the Shambali--wouldn’t have been able to resist.”

Ruesso was laughing almost spitefully.

“A sheila who can control tin buckets?” Junkrat snorted, “Sounds like we’d get along fine-”

As if she could read his mind, Mei turned on him and hissed, “Not. Another. Word!”

Junkrat looked at a complete loss for words, confused and glancing back at Roadhog in quiet question, but Roadhog didn’t even make a noise--the larger man was already drawing his own conclusions and thoughts from what he heard.

“Oi, what’s all the fuss,” Junkrat defended, “I’s just sayin’ I’d like to meet the sheila!”

“We all know what you meant!” Mei snapped, “You and your...your...prejudice against omnics! You’re a bully! And I don’t want to hear it! Orisa is the sweetest omnic you’ll ever meet and you…”

Mei couldn’t stand to see him at the moment and brushed past him and through the door.

“...What’d I say?” Junkrat searched everyone’s faces, scratching his chin curiously.

Jack shook his head and turned back to Ruesso, “So now she’s loose? Where would she go?

Ruesso shook his head, “I wouldn’t know; she hasn’t been pacified to be made compliant--she fought us nearly every step of the way, so there really is no telling what is on her mind.”

Efi suddenly perked up, “Yes there is.”

The room stopped to look down at the small girl; she stepped forward and turned to face the Overwatch team, “When she took control of Orisa, there was a transcript of her conversation with Orisa’s personality core.”

“What does that mean?” Lucio glanced between Efi and Winston, perhaps hoping the gorilla would answer.

Efi continued, “It means that she controls their bodies, but she can’t or won’t touch their soul, the part that makes them alive.”

“We are not going to debate whether omnics are alive or not right now,” Jack suddenly cut in when Junkrat opened his mouth again, “We’re going to simplify this right now: our top priority is to bring her into Overwatch custody--whatever her intentions are, we can’t let her fall back into Talon’s hands.”

~*~

Moira hated bad habits, like twisting one’s hair around their fingers, or pacing; she thought they were annoyances, eyesores and absolutely put her in a bad mood when she was forced to watch someone perform the strange and irritating self-ritual of calming.

And she hated it even more when she caught herself chewing on the tips of her sharpened nails while she watched the footage from the facility’s low-budget security cameras. The asset worked as well as she could have hoped, but irritation and anger were pooled in her stomach instead of pride. Watching her hard work and years of her life just _stroll_ out of those warehouse doors…

“Is this why you didn’t tell me who was coming to guard the asset?” Moira’s eyes shot up to watch Maximilien over the monitor, though her face was still focused on what was happening on-screen.

“We weren’t exactly hiding anything from _you_ , per se,” The omnic said smoothly, “We were counting on Ruesso to play his part; of course, we won’t know if our little gamble was successful until much later...but I have a good feeling.”

“How good?” Moira looked back down at the security footage; it had restarted and now she was watching you climb onto Orisa’s back again, “Ruesso isn’t the only thing you need to be able to predict.”

“Akande is handling things with the asset,” Maximilien said easily, though whatever his real thoughts were, Moira knew she would be kept out of the loop.

“That man couldn’t predict a child, let alone a full grown woman,” Moira quipped coldly, though she didn’t argue.

She paused and let the silence draw out as she watched you fire on Ruesso, before Orisa broke from the warehouse and the footage ended again. Moira herself often couldn’t predict your actions and that was after having watched and experimented on you for 5 years. Moira didn’t bother to question Maximilien, and questioning Akande was as futile as it was dangerous--if Akande only had one flaw (and he had more, though the man refused to see it) it was unwavering pride mixed with an unhealthy amount of blindness.

Finally she roused herself, “Since the two of you seem to have your own plans for the asset at this juncture, I will take my leave of the project; you know how to get ahold of me if anything goes awry.”

Moira turned and began walking away, her hands folded behind her back; her greatest project, out the door on the whim of Talon leaders...it burned her inside more than she wanted to admit. There was so much more she could have done with you, given the time and the chance…

She huffed and left the facility. There were bigger fish to fry now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAANNNNNDDDD that's the end of Arc One! Arc Two starts next chapter (I'm probably not going to split this into multiple fics, so much as I'm just going to keep going until either my computer crashes or the story actually finishes, we'll see which happens first, lol.
> 
> A little bit of closure here at the end, just a pause before we get back to the reader; there's a little bit of a time skip so we'll see how smooth it actually is.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	17. Two Weeks Later

_Do not harm Efi-_

_I’ll do anything for my family, please-_

_One, two, twirl and pivot; one, two, you remember the steps, and two, twirl-_

_You’re a tool, a weapon of war and you’d better get used to it-_

_Violence is not the answer-_

_I’m sorry, but this isn’t a simple injury; we saved your leg, but you’ll never dance again-_

_You remind me of my granddaughter-_

_No, no my FAMILY-_

_-NOT HARM EFI-_

_-WEAPON, AND YOU’D BETTER-_

_-NEVER DANCE AGAIN, I’M SOR-_

You sat up and gasped for breath; tears still stained your cheeks, even as you choked and covered your mouth to muffle the sobs that tried to escape your throat. The homeless shelter you were staying in was dark and quiet--though a few of the night-owls glanced over at you, disinterested after a few moments--and the low lights from the hallways offered some comfort from the dark thoughts that hovered in the shadows.

Even though it was still fresh, you couldn’t remember every detail of how you ended up on that boat, bound for the US; you could remember flashes of your walk next to the river, heading for the ocean, a friendly car and family who had driven you to Port Harcourt, Nigeria and offered you a change of clothes. You couldn’t even remember the excuse you gave them. Your mind had been racing at the idea of freedom and panicked at the thought that any moment, Talon might appear from behind the next clump of bushes, or drag you down an unattended alleyway in Port Harcourt...You were fairly sure you snuck onto the first cargo ship you had seen that was unattended; you really didn’t care where it was going, you just needed to get away, get under the radar, just _away_ …

You do remember that most of your time on the boat was spent sleeping. Food was hard to steal from the galley, and it never fully satisfied, since you didn’t want to take too much and clue in the few ship attendants who were on board.

The ship had landed in New York and getting off had been twice as hard as getting on; you’d nearly been spotted twice and security had eyed you suspiciously as you walked out of the gates to the pier. It didn’t help that you were in civilian clothes without a badge or anything while the rest of everyone else was wearing bright orange vests. Still, you were leaving, so they didn’t kick up a fuss.

Now you were just one of the thousands of homeless people wandering the lower streets of New York, while the upper echelon lived on the raised streets and higher floors of the highrises. It was a physical reminder of the ‘haves’ and the ‘have nots’ and it was completely different seeing it from the opposite side of it all.

You sighed and kicked your legs over the cot you had been laying on. You could remember performing on Broadway, and competing in the Grand Garden Colosseum near Times Square…the glamour, the music beating in your chest. Your eyes scanned the room. Almost half the inhabitants of the shelter were Omnics, and despite the rampant racism that you knew was in the streets above, there seemed to be none here. All were welcome, especially since Omnics didn’t need a bed, just something to protect them from the cold nights outside.

The windows told you daybreak was near, though you didn’t waste time wondering if you’d find more sleep beneath the thin blanket you had been provided—even if you could, you didn’t want to. The nightmares were getting worse.

As if to remind you of them, your hip and knee groaned as you put weight on your right leg. Yeah, the doctors had managed to save it, and they helped you walk again, but your days dancing had been ripped from you, in a moment of adrenaline and pain.

You packed the messenger bag you had dug out from the trash a few days ago and headed for the door. A part of you wondered if anyone you once knew was still around…

~*~

Hanzo sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor between his feet. The carpet was white and he could see the telltale signs of age--the frayed ends and thin patches, the off-color of stains. It was easier to focus on the flaws of inanimate objects at the end of the day; it was easier to think and feel nothing.

But he couldn’t do it today.

_I will not grant you the death you wish for; you still have a purpose in this life,_ **brother.**

An ache, old and festering, flared in his chest. The death he wished for? Did he wish for death? His hands could remember the way his sword tried to buck from his hands as he cut Genji down, getting caught on bone and flesh--so unlike the training posts they had practiced on for years. Death would grant him nothing but a reprieve; an escape that he didn’t want or deserve.

_I have accepted what I have become, and I have forgiven you; it is time for you to forgive yourself._

Forgive himself. The thought had never crossed his mind before and it angered him that Genji forced the thought in now, after so many years. Genji must have lied; to what end, Hanzo couldn’t know, but Hanzo wouldn’t be fooled.

_Perhaps I am a fool to believe there is still hope for you, but I do. Think on that, brother._

Hanzo grit his teeth and growled. He had seen Genji, alive, with his own two eyes. Haunted and gleaming in the low light, it had felt like Genji could see straight through to Hanzo’s soul and weighed his sins with a thought. His nerve was only held by his own stubborn will and the hope--the _prayer_ \--that this silver ninja was anyone but Genji. Hanzo could handle an imposter, could destroy a robotic duplicate, but his own brother…

It was a moment before Hanzo realized he was pacing, back and forth along the front of the bed, his eyes sweeping back and forth along the carpet as if it could possibly be hiding facts and answers and all he had to do was find them.

Another contract was what he thought he needed. After Hanamura and his run-in with Genji, Hanzo had thrown himself at the first assassination offer that had crossed his attention--some CEO of note who lived near Wall Street--but 7000 miles couldn’t separate Hanzo’s thoughts from his brother’s words. His hands clenched and unclenched, as if trying to promote blood flow; his jaw tensed to the point of hurting. He couldn’t escape the guilt that had plagued him all these years, since the moment he realized what he had done to his own brother-- _his own brother_ \--but he had never wanted to escape that.

The guilt was as much a punishment as the rest of it.

Now, though; now it was fresh and burning, shame settling in his stomach like a sickness. It was obvious Genji wanted him to do _something_ to atone--he spoke of honor through actions, but just what was the silver ninja asking Hanzo to do?

For now, Hanzo forced the thought from his mind and realized once again he would get no sleep. Genji’s eyes haunted his every move. If he couldn’t sleep, he might as well work, and hope the answer he wanted would come with time and patience.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHY IS IT SO HARD TO KEEP THIS POSTING SCHEDULE?? lolol the best part is that I have so many chapters written ahead, so you'd think it was easier to just post a chapter every other day, right? APPARENTLY NOT! Oh well. I blame my tardiness today on [Paige](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FitofPaige/pseuds/FitofPaige), lol. I promised her I'd write her some Undertale stuff (which is almost done, actually, lol).
> 
> SOOOOO
> 
> Arc 2 has officially started!! I hope the jump didn't confuse anyone, but I wanted a little bit of time to pass before the next big even for the Reader! I've never had a character who was a dancer before, but I like the idea of it :D
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	18. Home and Away

_”Jack, we need you back at base,” Winston’s voice was coated in static, and froze enough times for Jack Morrison to wonder at his own wisdom for taking the call in the first place._

_“No, you don’t,” Jack tried to convince them both at the same time, “I played my time as a desk jockey and look where it got Overwatch last time.”_

_“That wasn’t your fault, and you know it,” Winston countered, “I’m not a decent leader, and Ana still hasn’t returned-”_

_“Ana probably won’t, if she’s smart,” Jack grunted and sat down against a wall in Port Harcourt, Nigeria. He had tried picking up your trail as best he could, but he couldn’t get any information through us usual channels._

_“That makes it all the more imperative that you return, Jack,” The gorilla looked away from the call as if watching someone enter the room, “Plus, there are...well, new developments that I think you should be privy to.”_

_“What sort of developments?”_

_“Genji has returned, for one,” Winston said, “For another...well, I think you should see it for yourself.”_

That had been three days ago and Jack had still lingered in Nigeria, hoping to catch news of you, or of Talon, or anything that could be used as an excuse to stay away a little longer, but the trail was cold and Talon was nowhere to be seen in the port town. His well had run dry.

Returning to the Gibraltar watchpoint was bittersweet now; he could remember when it had been bustling and alive, people wherever you turned, noise and missions and laughter and heartache. Now it was a mostly empty building that barely had enough generators to keep the main hub operational. They had some money flow, because Winston had more than a few patents for lots of things, but not nearly enough to keep this whole operation up and running for very long.

It was easier before he answered Winston’s call.

He didn’t have to focus on anyone but himself; he could find his own food, he could sleep anywhere, he knew the limits of his own body, but now there were over 10 others ready to work for a cause, ready to lay down their lives.

Jack knew he couldn’t run from his role for long, but he couldn’t stop the resistant pull in his chest.

The road that lead up to the watchpoint was closed off and had a large yellow warning about trespassing that Jack ignored. The road curved along a cliff and he knew soon he’d come to the actual entrance gate, where a security guard used to be posted, a decade before--the guard shack was a dusty wreck and Jack could see magazines still open on the desk, likely with some article about some vanity or another.

He stepped over the broken car gate and pressed on.

Before Jack could actually make it to the entrance, he heard a series of melodious beeps and a child giggling.

The child was Efi, of course; after along discussion about the safest options for the child (and for her to work on Orisa), even her parents had agreed that the secretive Gibraltar Watchpoint was better than their very publicly known home. Neither parent could come for very long--they helped Efi move some things in and met the rest of the Overwatch agents over the course of about 4 or 5 days and then both were back to Numbani.

Jack hadn’t been there for that--he had been out still searching. There were also other agents still out looking--Reinhardt and Lucio had apparently left the base as soon as they could to begin searching for clues around South America to see if she could have landed there by boat, and Mei left with Tracer to check around the ports of Europe.

On top of that, Winston informed Jack about Jamison and Mako refusing to follow orders and leaving to follow you by whatever means they saw fit--which made Jack more than uncomfortable. The two ex-criminals were as likely to blow something important up while claiming affiliation with Overwatch as they were to actually find you.

Jack hefted his back higher on his back and diverted his walking path to walk around the main entrance and around the corner. He heard Torbjorn before he saw him.

“The thing’s as dimwited as they come when it’s playin’ with that infernal bird!”

Winston was already trying to soothe the old man, “Don’t worry too much--we’ll figure out what to tell-”

“Jack!” Angela saw him turn the corner and called to him from the group of the three of them.

Jack raised his hand in greeting and his eyes moved over the small garden that was left overgrown when he saw Efi running around and chasing a bird. It was a strange one that Jack had never seen before--bright yellow, with a small beak and a pointed fringe. The bird seemed to tease Efi before it darted over her head and landed on-

“Watch out-”

Before he could get the words out or do more than drop his bag, Angela was already standing in front of him with her hands pressed to her chest.

“Jack, wait!”

“Wait? Are you crazy?” Jack wanted to dart around her and engage the bastion unit, even as it curiously turned to look at the commotion, “That thing-”

“Just shaddap,” Torbjorn hadn’t bothered to rush, but waddled closer instead, “It's different from the others; it broke it's programming--for the most part.”

“‘For the most part’,” Jack echoed, unable to relax, but he had stopped trying to press forward, “What does ‘for the most part’ mean?”

“It still has violent reactions when it is introduced to war-like stimuli--the sound of gunshots, perceived threats to itself or Ganymede-”

“Ganymede?”

“The bird,” Torbjorn supplied with a grunt.

“Jack are you listening?” Angela’s eyebrows came together in frustration, “Bastion is showing all the signs of someone suffering from PTSD.”

Jack pressed his lips together; he didn’t really want to admit that he had started to think the same thing while Winston had talked, but he couldn’t deny it now that their medical professional was saying it to his face.

“Alright, so what can we do, then?”

A feeling that the three of them had been trying to figure out a way to convince Jack to let Bastion stay pooled in his stomach when he saw the look of relief cross Winston and Angela’s face. Torbjorn didn’t look relieved, but he certainly relaxed.

“Efi and I will be looking at cleaning it up and looking into its programming,” Winston said.

“I have been trying to put together a plan for stabilizing its symptoms, but I will have to wait until Winston and Efi are through,” Angela added, “Plus, Tor will need to help them in order to make it easier for Bastion to communicate with us.”

Jack felt a headache coming on but nodded his head, “Alright; now, I’m going inside to get coffee...or a beer. I’ll decide on the way.”

He ignored Angela’s giggles and Torbjorn’s quiet comments about Jack’s lack of stamina.

“How is Orisa doing?” Jack cut over the noise and asked Winston.

Winston glanced at Efi before lowering his voice a little, “Orisa’s personality core is 100% in tact and safe--there were some...anomalies that perhaps could be from the woman, but according to Efi, it's just another week or so of repairs and Orisa will be fit for duty again.”

Jack hummed quietly, “I should probably sit down with Efi soon, then…”

“Soon, but now now,” Angela said, firm despite her gentle tones, “Let the child play and be happy--things will not be easy from here on.”

Jack pressed his lips together and turned to look at the small girl who seemed to be having fun looking for bugs for Ganymede to eat--or maybe she was looking for twigs to add to the bird’s nest, Jack wasn’t sure. She represented everything that Overwatch stood for now: a future of peace, where the innocent can be innocent and the wicked punished.

Even though Jack knew it was naivete to think something like that was wholly possible, he couldn’t stop the spark of hope in his old chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I actually had to go back and add this chapter in; mostly to fill out the storyline and to give more information. Plus, I had to finally make a decision about whether Orisa was _dead_ dead and decided I couldn't do it to her haha. She's too precious for this world!!
> 
> Delving a little deeper into Jack Morrison here; I always wondered about his character and if he played the hardass because of how things went down when the original overwatch fell apart.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	19. Enigmatic

“How long are we scheduled to stay, Charles?” Harold Thompson fussed with his cufflinks, turning them so they sat perfectly against the fabric.

“15 minutes of meeting and greeting, 25 minutes of mingling, 6 minutes for your speech and then 10 minutes after, in case you make any favorable connections and wish to touch base with them before we leave,” His secretary, a young man with dark burgundy hair, listed the schedule off without looking up from the clipboard he was quickly scribbling on, “And I double checked; the venue doesn’t allow Omnics inside, and doesn’t employ any.”

“Good; if I had to touch one, I’d probably need to send out for dry cleaning,” Harold sneered, “Keep note of the others in attendance, but I want you near the door once I go up for my speech.”

“Yes, sir,” Charles had long since stopped trying to get his boss to stop repeating himself; the older man liked to hear himself talk too much, “Just like every other charity event.”

Harold wasn’t listening and sneered as they turned into the parking lot of the hotel; it wasn’t 5 star but from what he had heard, it was all the charity could afford to woo the elite they were trying to garner favor from.

“Whatever anyone ever tells you, Charles,” Harold grunted, “The only good a charity really does is serve to make an impression on the public eye. Whoever supports the most charities can get away with murder in the business world.”

“Of course, sir,” Charles answered absently.

~*~

Hanzo leapt from one building to the next, his body lithe and agile as he pulled himself up onto the roof of the building just across from the front of the hotel where his target would be soon arriving. Security was minimal on this side of the building and for good reason. The window of time between the target leaving his car and entering the hotel was considered a much too small gap for any real danger to be present.

The other side of the building however, was crawling with hired security, scavenging the tops of the buildings, preparing for when so many important people would be nearly in plain view. This particular hotel wasn’t grand or up to the standards of the elite, but it's ballroom--where tonight’s charity event would be taking place--opened up into a grand courtyard and garden, maintained and cared for because of events such as these. There was little chance of getting to the target once he was actually in the hotel, but the small window, the one that was quickly approaching...that was Hanzo’s specialty.

He knelt on the ground and drew his bow, pulling back the arrow to his ear. The limousines were lined up, one by one as the sun set behind Hanzo. His breathing deepened and his eyes focused down the length of the arrow, following as the door to the current limo opened. First stepped out a nobody, some common man with dark burgundy hair. Then, Hanzo relaxed. Harold Thompson looked grumpy for a moment before his face lifted into some strange approximation of a warm smile, but Hanzo had seen the act too many times before to be fooled: the smile didn’t reach his eyes, and his eyebrows were still drawn together in frustration.

He just needed a moment-

The same moment he loosed his arrow, his ears heard the whistling of another projectile--likely a bullet--but he couldn’t make his body move as he watched his own arrow bury itself through Harold Thompson’s temple, dropping the man like he were suddenly filled with heavy stones. Then he felt the sharp, burning pain in his shoulder.

If the sniper had shot sooner, it was clear that the shot had been meant to make him loose his arrow too soon and miss; such a careful aim made Hanzo think of one name in this business. Widowmaker.

He growled and messily hooked his bow over his chest with the string before he raced to the edge of the roof and jumped off, aiming for the fire escape on the next building. He caught the railing with one hand, but another shot was fired and his fingers stung as the bullet grazed the back of his hand; he let go.

The dumpster he landed on bent and groaned under his weight, and for a moment, it was all he could hear. He knew he needed to move. If he stayed any longer, Windowmaker would simply take a clean shot to his head-

Someone grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked him off the dumpster. Hanzo grabbed the wrist of the offending hand--a quiet, pained gasp stopped him from defending himself automatically. His eyes focused on you as you stared up at him, but you were quickly glancing around, obviously aware of the sniper.

“Come on!” You urged quietly, pulling him deeper into the alleyway, despite his iron grip on your wrist, “I think they’re on the roof of the hotel, _come on_!”

Hanzo’s shoulder burned and his feet began following after you despite his mind protesting.

Who were you? What had you seen? Why were you helping him?

You didn’t say anything as you ducked from one alleyway to the next, moving behind buildings and under parking garages. For a few minutes, both of you could hear the sounds of security and police, trying to figure out where Hanzo was--you guessed more than knew that it must have something to do with the commotion you had noticed at the front of that hotel you were walking past before you heard the crash of the man falling onto the dumpster. You really didn’t want to guess, but you had seen the big important cars and the business elite gathering…

Assassination? Most likely, though you had never known of anyone who did such a thing with a bow and arrows. You forced it from your mind for now; and with it, you forced away all the questions of why you were helping him, especially if he was a murderer.

Maybe you were just hoping to prove something to yourself, or maybe it was gut instinct. Either way, you didn’t stop until long after the sounds of the police had died away and you could duck into another parking garage for some cover. You glared at another homeless man who tried to grunt about this elevator accessway being his spot, and ignored him as you stepped through another door that had been propped open.

This was the maintenance stairs for the elevators, and beneath them, Hanzo could see a makeshift bed and a small area that he guessed you must have been living in.

“Sit down somewhere,” You said quietly, “I have a first aid kit tucked away here somewhere.”

Hanzo wasn’t sure why he was here. He could have simply went back to his own temporary hideout, or even just leave from here--the wound wasn’t anything serious, as long as he treated it soon and this strange woman was just another potential casualty-

“Sit,” You ordered again, pulling out a plastic box that was marked and labeled as a first aid kit with a bright red circle with a white plus sign in the middle of it.

Hanzo crossed his legs and felt himself sink to the floor, but grunted, “I do not require your aid.”

“I’m sure you don’t,” You answered, rolling your eyes, “I’m sure the shooter on the roof got bored and decided not to fire again.”

He pressed his lips together, a lot of his bravado and pride stung by that statement, “...Why did you interfere?”

You didn’t answer at first. If you were being honest, you still weren’t sure.

“...Why did you kill that man?” You asked suddenly, while you knelt behind him and gently eased his shirt--was it a gi? A kimono? It was beautiful and a shame it was stained with blood, whatever the correct term was--away from his wound.

Ignoring his question made him scowl, but you couldn’t see it, “It was the job I accepted.”

“Did his life not mean more than that?” You asked and cleaned the wound; you didn’t care for an answer to this question and instead answered his, “Honestly, I stepped in because I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I wouldn’t have at least tried to help.”

Your question and statement made him scowl, but his lips pressed together. Altruism for the sake of itself was never something Hanzo had really thought about, except to scoff at it. He had lived for his clan, killed for them; killed his own brother for them. Then his life was about his work, and the punishment of living with what he had done to Genji.

_The world is changing once again, Hanzo; and it's time to pick a side._

“Stories,” Hanzo mumbled, his head and heart back in Hanamura; when your hands slowed in their work, he focused again, “For my gratitude, I will warn you that all you have done is put a target on your back, stealing a kill from Talon’s lady-spider.”

At the mention of Talon, you froze and choked on your next breath. Talon, all the way here...so they really were as big as they claimed? You hadn’t been keyed into the news when you were younger, you ignored the news unless it was in relation to competitions or other dancers. You had heard of Talon, of course, but it was always in passing, just more background noise that you liked to drown out with music.

Hanzo felt your hesitation, heard your gasp and turned his head to look back at you. You pressed your lips together and began wrapping his wound to the best of your ability. The archer studied you for a few minutes; your hair had been cut to the scalp at one point recently, he decided, but it was growing out and already he could see it's hue against your scalp. Your eyes were downturned toward your work, but he found the hardened fire there that you seemed to be trying to hide.

When you turned to dig something out of the first-aid kit, he caught sight of the metal at the base of your skull and saw it as it sat messily against your skin; above and to one side, Hanzo could see the scars, overlapping and seeming old and repeatedly opened…

Questions flooded him, but he held his tongue. It wasn’t his place, and you had earned your silence with the tending of his wound.

“There...that should keep it from getting infected,” You said quietly, wiping your hands on your jeans and winced when you realized you had just smeared blood on the only clothes you owned. At least they were black.

Hanzo shrugged his shirt back on and looked down at his fingers, where the bullet had grazed and was happy to see that it wasn’t a deep wound and they had scabbed over on their own. The wound ached, but it wasn’t worse than any wound he had before.

You were already moving, packing things away and Hanzo could see that you were preparing to move: the blankets and such that you used as bedding were rolled up and tied to the stained backpack.

“Why do you run from Talon?” Hanzo turned in his place to watch you pack, his eyes on your bag and your hands.

“Why would I be?” You countered without looking up, trying to delay the answer until you could just walk away.

“Here.”

You stopped and glanced back at the strange man, your eyes falling to his hand which was holding out a small slip of paper to you. You gingerly reached out and took it, but you felt your mouth drop when you realized what it was.

“A train ticket?” You asked, confused.

“My plans have changed,” Hanzo answered simply, “And Talon will search for you to leave on foot, if you truly flee from them.”

His accent and words soothed you; your eyes darted back up to meet his, but before you could decline, you nodded your head, “Thank you.”

Hanzo stood and held his wounded shoulder, “The train leaves from the southern part of this city--you must go soon.”

“Thank you,” You said again and hurried to finish packing.

Hanzo sat on the staircase and watched you leave without another word. You were a momentary vapor in his life and you disappeared with the flush of wind; but he hadn’t lied to you. His plans had changed.

“Alright, Genji,” Hanzo said to the empty stairwell, “I will pick a side.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was surprisingly both hard and easy to write Hanzo, but I'm happy with this chapter :D
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	20. Men and Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEFORE I FORGET, THIS ISN'T THE CHAPTER WITH MCCREE, LeewadeeLeewada!! McCree will show up _next_ chapter. Cause I had to add Chapter 17 recently, which meant everything got pushed back. I'M SORRY, MCCREE IS COMING, I PROMISE.

“Well, howdya like that, Roadie?” Junkrat dug in his nose with his pinkie while he relaxed on the small pile of Talon soldiers, “The blue bitch escaped and only a’one’a these blokes wanted ta tell us where our sheila went; how rude.”

“Hhmg,” Roadhog answered, holding up a man by the scruff of his bulletproof vest, “Keep talking.”

The Talon soldier was near tears after he had watched these two monsters so casually tear through his team; the tall skinny one wiped a booger on his commander’s pants before he went digging again. Roadhog shook him again and he whimpered.

“I told you!” He nearly squealed, “I told you, we got word that she boarded a train an hour ago!”

“What about the blue bitch? She go after our sheila?” Junkrat flicked his next booger at the nearly crying Talon soldier--who gagged like he was going to throw up when the booger landed on his cheek, “Oh shut up and answer, damn it!”

“No!” the soldier screamed, “No, she was supposed to stop the archer and that was it!”

Junkrat lost interest and started to loot the soldiers beneath him, but Roadhog simply brought the man up to face his imposing mask.

“Where was the train going,” Roadhog growled.

“I-uh, Illinois! Chicago, I think! We already have a team preparing to stop the train on it's way, though!”

“Ooh, shiny!” Junkrat proclaimed and took one of the men’s watches, shaking it and listening to the way it ticked the seconds, “Reminds me of a properly calibrated bomb.”

The moan that Junkrat let out was almost sexual, but Roadhog was already preparing to get rid of this last loose end.

“Wait, wait-”

Junkrat didn’t wince or even seem to flinch at the sound of the man’s neck being snapped.

“Alright, Roadie, where are we going again?” Junkrat looked up from looting the dead, curious eyes telling the larger man that Junkrat had already forgotten what they were supposed to be doing.

“Train,” He grunted and stopped there when Junkrat’s eyes lit up.

“Right! I’ve always wanted to pull a train heist!”

“We’re after the woman,” Roadhog growled.

“Oh, right...a train kidnapping then!”

“Overwatch.”

Junkrat gave a dreamy sigh, “Mei...right, right! We’re going legit for real this time! We’re _rescuing_ the sheila!”

Roadhog rolled his eyes hard enough to give himself a headache. Normally he tried to be patient with the younger man, but it wasn’t lost on Roadhog that they technically hadn’t been ‘approved’ to hunt you down. Jack had even specifically told Junkrat that he didn’t think either of them had the finesse or right temperments to handle bringing you in.

It was probably thought that they might bring you back in pieces, or perhaps they were worried the two of them would break contract. It was obvious very few of the Overwatch agents actually trusted the pair of them--Lucio easily spoke to both of them, and even Tracer was warming up to Roadhog (even as she politely acknowledged Junkrat), but the rest...Roadhog grunted and turned toward the hole that had been blasted into the wall, ready to leave this stinking warehouse where Talon had set up a temporary base of operations.

“Oi, Roadie! What’s yer rush? You sweet on this sheila, eh?” Junkrat laughed shrilly, giggling at his own joke even as Roadhog ignored him.

Sweet on her? He’d never met her, but he didn’t care to let his mind wander to those types of thoughts. They were on a mission, and she was their target.

And nothing more.

~*~

Genji pointed to a point on the map, “I have a good feeling my master would follow this coastline; Master Zenyatta may join Overwatch if I speak with him.”

Jack nodded, “Having an Omnic on the team will be a new change, but the support of anyone from the Shambali could go a great way to convincing the UN to repeal the Petras Act.”

“More than that, it could make a very direct statement about our intentions,” Winston added, dipping his finger into a jar of peanut butter--he sat further from the console than normal to help remind himself not to touch the keys while covered in the substance, “About who we aim to aid, and what our intentions are.”

“What _are_ our intentions?” Fareeha Amari suddenly spoke up from her place at the opposite side of the map from Winston, “I joined hoping that this would be my chance to serve Overwatch’s original goals.”

“Not much has changed,” Winston reassured her, “But Overwatch must grow and adapt as the world changes--there are now peaceful omnics looking for shelter from humans, as much as there are humans searching for shelter from Talon and the like.”

Fareeha crossed her arms, contemplating Winston’s words. Winston, Jack, Lena, even Mei were old friends from her childhood, when her mother had been a top operative for the organization; it had been her dream to serve under its banner, but the opportunity had fallen away as the Petras Act had come into play. Now she hoped to get her chance.

“Can Omnics be trusted, though?” Fareeha glanced from Jack to Genji.

“I cannot speak for all Omnics, the same way I cannot speak for all humans,” Genji answered easily, “But Master Zenyatta is the most trustworthy; and Winston is right: there are omnics who wish for peace for their families. I have seen them and met them with my Master.”

The woman shifted from one foot to the other as she thought silently for a few moments. Peace was a lofty concept that many lauded over the weak in order to make them comply, but Overwatch had always been a beacon of hope for the weak, not an illusion meant to subjugate them.

“Then while Genji is fetching his master,” Fareeha uncrossed her arm and leaned in closer to the map, “What would you like for me to do?”

Jack glanced at Winston before he said, “Fareeha, there’s actually something that you should know.”

The woman raised an eyebrow in question, but didn’t say anything while she waited for Jack and Winston to silently decide who should break this suddenly important news to her. Winston won by stuffing nearly an entire fistful of peanut butter into his mouth and slowly rolling it over his tongue to savor the taste while Jack glared at the gorilla.

He sighed and turned to face Fareeha fully, his hands folded behind his back in the classic at-ease pose that was so much apart of who he was in Fareeha’s mind that she couldn’t imagine how else he would stand to break news to her.

“It’s about your mother, Ana,” Jack started, and before Fareeha could wonder what new information could be revealed about her late mother, Jack continued, “She’s not dead, Fareeha; Ana is alive and working undercover as Shrike.”

Fareeha thought she was going to faint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	21. On Moonshine and Whiskey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*blasting 'Dream Daddy For Me' by JT MACHINIMA*_

You knew at a different time of your life, a first class ticket on a train like this would have been just a little bump of luxury after you won a competition; now, in your crusty jeans, stained shirt, and your shaved head, you had never felt so out of place. 

Or, you would have, except for the stranger who sat across the aisle from you.

He was in much nicer clothes: a fitted gray suit with a lavender colored button-up peaking from his sleeves and collar, and the metal hand that came out from his sleeve was polished and looked well taken care of, but that was where the ‘proper’ part of him ended. His brown hair was pulled back into a small ponytail at the base of his skull, but it was obvious he had done it without much thought: pieces were tangled together and had fallen out completely. There was an unlit cigar between his lips that he chewed on slowly and it looked as if he hadn’t shaved recently, if the heavy stubble was any indicator.

Plus, the glasses he had on didn’t have lenses in them.

Every few minutes, you would feel his eyes move to your form, though you tried to ignore him completely while you stared out your own window. A part of you was worried he would ask for the conductor to move you, or give you trouble since you seemed so scruffy. What you didn’t expect was for this strange gentleman to sit across from you on the bench facing you and to start talking to you.

“Good day, ma’am,” He greeted, and you were surprised by his heavy southern accent, “Mind if I join you?”

You glanced at him, shifting a little when you saw he was sitting directly across from you, “No, I don’t mind…”

Just be polite and figure out what he wants--then you can move on with your life and get to Chicago. Still, the charming smile on his face was disarming and you offered him a smile of your own.

“What has a pretty little thing like you heading for Chicago, hmm?” He asked, leaning back and getting comfortable in his seat--you eyed his suit at that; you had known plenty of uptight business people who barely bent their arms or legs for fear of getting a wrinkle in their suits and he just...slouched naturally, it seemed.

“I, uh...Just traveling, really,” You came up with an answer as quickly as you could; you wanted something as close to the truth as possible, since you weren’t the best liar in the world, “Just...getting over a slump and trying to outrun it, I guess?”

“That so?” He grinned and you felt as if he just… _knew_ the truth, the whole truth, “Well, I’m happy to be sharing a car with such a pretty gal.”

You felt your cheeks flush and your hand absently went up to touch your stubble on your head--to comfort yourself or perhaps to question his sanity, but you weren’t sure which.

“Thanks,” You finally forced yourself to answer, clearing your throat.

The man raised his hand and you tensed; the attendant of the car started walking over and you watched her almost forgetting how to breath as she leaned in toward the stranger. You tried to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Can I get you anything sir?”

“Yes, ma’am,” He almost purred when talking to this woman and you practically had to close your eyes to keep yourself from rolling them, “My seatmate here is looking for something to drink; what would you like, darlin’? My treat.”

You blinked, staring at him for a long few moments before you finally remembered the woman was waiting. You quickly sputtered a response and the woman offered the man another smile as he ordered a whiskey for himself.

“Expecting something different, little lady?” He chuckled.

“I...well, I know I’m not exactly nice looking right now….” You breathed, trying to offer him a smile, but it felt forced so you dropped it, “It's been rough, recently…”

“Nobody to help you pick up the pieces, huh?” He nodded, looking down at his hands for a moment, “Yeah, I’ve been there before.”

You pressed your lips together; the way he said it, the far away glimmer in his eye, the pit in your stomach when you realized you believed him. He seemed honest enough, though you were still a little guarded.

“You seem to be doing better for yourself now,” You nodded toward his suit, which was still wrinkling from his posture.

He chuckled, “Well...maybe a little better, ma’am.”

His accent wrapped around his words pleasantly, and you found yourself relaxing despite yourself. It was just a train ride and you could walk away as soon as it was over. The woman returned with your drink and his whiskey, which he thanked her for profusely; you thanked her quietly, but the woman only had eyes for the man in front of you.

While you took your first sip, the man pulled out a small flask from his jacket and poured a little clear liquid into his own drink. You raised an eyebrow and the man chuckled, seeming embarrassed.

“You’ll have to forgive an old man his habits,” He explained, “Moonshine; whiskey is a great flavor, but I prefer a burn.”

“Or a hangover,” You quipped, making him laugh and agree.

“Don’t think I got your name, little lady,” He glanced up from his drink, his eyes catching yours in a seering look that left you telling him your name without much hesitation. His eyes had reminded you of a predator, not a businessman with a drinking problem, “That’s almost as pretty as the lady who owns it--you can call me Joel; Joel Morricone.”

You opened your mouth and your eyebrows came together, “You mean the writer? You’re Joel Morricone, the _writer_?”

He actually looked bashful at your words, “Well now, I don’t think I expected anyone to recognize my name like this.”

“No, you wrote that biography about Louisa Camron and her breakthrough in the ballet competitions,” You leaned forward, “And you wrote those articles that exposed the blackmail at the US Nationals, a few years ago.”

He chuckled and rubbed his stubble with one hand, “Ah, didn’t know I was speaking to a fan--it's a pretty small market.”

“Small, but well-paying,” You shrugged, realizing how excited you had gotten, “Sorry, I...I’m a fan of dance and all the like.”

“I could see that much.”

McCree wondered if he could keep the upper hand for now. He hadn’t expected you to be so… _normal_. When Jack had messaged him nearly 6 months prior and asked him to rejoin Overwatch, McCree had been reluctant and asked for time to think it over--the fact was, even after all this time, there were still open wounds and it was too much.

When he got another call, a little more than a week ago, he had expected more of Jack trying to recruit him, but the soldier had other thoughts. Instead of asking, Jack was already just giving him orders. At the time, McCree just went along with it--no need to make enemies with a man who was at the top of the Enhancement program along with Reyes, after all--but he never expected that he’d run right into the woman Jack had mentioned.

_”McCree, she’s a danger to herself from what we can tell; and others, if she takes over the wrong drone or omnic,” Jack had already finished explaining your abilities, and he was speaking harshly and in earnest, “Plus, Talon wants her back--we already have word that their soldiers are out in force, picking up false trails everywhere.”_

_“Alrigh’, alrigh’, pardner,” McCree had glanced around, “I’ll keep my eye out, but I ain’t makin’ no promises--I haven’t rejoined Overwatch.”_

_Jack paused and seemed to study him through the screen, “...McCree, I’ve heard of some of your exploits for the past few years; are you sure you don’t want back in? We’re still under the radar and we’re done answering to the UN just to have them stab us in the back.”_

_McCree paused and sighed at the time, repeating his same words, saying he was done._

Now? Now he wasn’t so sure. Jack had described you as a menace, ready to join Talon the minute they captured you again, or worse, a loose canon ready to explode on the first person who rubbed you the wrong way.

All he saw was a scared, lonely woman who was as lost as she was scarred. He saw the work that quack had done on the back of your head; he had caught a glimpse of the bald patch where he knew hair wouldn’t grow again. What a way to torture someone: slowly changing them from one thing into another, all the while leaving them to pick up the pieces and wonder if they were even human anymore.

Fuck...was he still thinking about her? Or himself?

Blackwatch had picked him up when he had needed it, but at what cost? What had he left behind when those doors had closed forever? Overwatch (and Blackwatch) were long gone and all the seemed to be left was McCree and his pain.

“Did you dance?” He asked suddenly.

“I-uh, I mean,” You blinked and stammered, taken off guard, “Y...Yeah; I competed and all that, years ago.”

He nodded in understanding and tucked your name away for now, intending on looking it up when he got a moment alone. McCree opened his mouth to say something more, but the train suddenly shook, making you slide from your seat with a short yelp. McCree managed to brace himself, but only just.

“What in tarnation?” He growled, sliding to the end of his bench and looking up and down the walkway. People were on the floor and standing, but he couldn’t see anything. The train was still moving, but seemed to be slowing down.

A foreign voice came over the train intercom, “Everyone remain in your seats; I repeat, everyone remain in your seats. We are being boarded. I repeat, we are being boarded.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY CRAP DID I REALLY MISS TWO UPDATES? I'M SORRY I'M HAVING TROUBLE XD
> 
> Okay, but seriously, this fic doesn't exactly have a great response, so its hard to prioritize it against other projects; that being said, I have started writing Arc 3 and if anyone would like to suggest ideas for missions that the Overwatch crew could go on, I'd love to hear them!
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	22. Never Let Old Dogs Run

McCree slid back toward the window and opened it, leaning his head out. He cursed.

A black helicopter had landed on the roof of the train and was using it's weight to slow the train; McCree turned his head to look ahead of them. He cursed again when he saw black jeeps starting to pull up alongside the engine.

He pulled his head back in, “You are certainly an attention catcher, aren’t you?”

You paled, your body freezing, “Talon?”

“Talon,” McCree nodded, pulling out a large 6-shooter from the back of his belt, “Sorry we had to stop pretendin’ so soon, little lady.”

“Yeah, I guess it would have been nice to still be in the dark,” You swallowed thickly, “So who do you work for? Since you don’t want Talon to get their hands on me?”

Your stomach dropped as you saw his eyes meet yours. It really didn’t matter who he worked for, did it? There would always be someone who would try to take your freedom. Always someone who wanted to use you.

“Well, currently, I’m not answerin’ to no one,” He moved toward the walkway again and kept an eye on each end of the train car, “But an old friend of mine gave me a call recently, and told me to keep watch, see if I wouldn’t run into you eventually.”

You didn’t move from your seat as he spoke, your eyes dropping to the ground, “To what end? You didn’t answer my question, not really.”

McCree gave you a sympathetic smile, but you noticed it didn’t quite reach his eyes, “Honestly, little lady, I don’t rightly know. I’m not too sure I’m keen on the whole thing either.”

There it was again; that honestly that was so present and strong it was almost violent. You almost didn’t have a choice but to believe him. It didn’t really change your current predicament, however. You couldn’t end up at a Talon base, no matter what this stranger’s motive was.

“How do we win this?” You asked, standing up and securing your bag on your back.

“Ah, a fighter, eh?” McCree chuckled and tilted his head, glancing down each direction before he spoke again, “The first thing we have to focus on is that they’re trying to stop the train--if they succeed at that, I’m as good as dead and you’re caught.”

You nodded slowly, your mind turning over his words, “Can you get me to the engine? These are drone operated, right?”

McCree stopped and blinked slowly before he looked at you with a smile, “They are indeed; lets get you moving.”

He ushered you ahead of him so he could keep an eye on the previous cars; Talon operatives were coming, there was no doubt, and once again he couldn’t ignore how similar the soldier’s movements were to his own devised tactics for Blackwatch. To be frank, it shook him to his core.

Someone had leaked that training method and McCree didn’t like where all the evidence was pointing.

When the Talon soldier fired off the first shot, you both ducked, but quickly dove through the door into the engine room. McCree forced the door closed and began preparing for Talon. He knew he had a short window before they would be on the door.

You were already focused on the robotic figure who was built into the seat of the conductor.

“Please return to your seats-” The robotic voice sounded hollow enough and you knew you couldn’t hold back, even if it was an omnic….

“I’m sorry,” You quickly say before you placed your hand on the drone’s forehead; the connection was always easier when you could feel the cool metal carapace of the drone you were taking control of, even as you felt it's internal heat below.

“Please re--tur-tur-turn,” It sputtered and then you felt a jolt as your mind was flooded with information: the turnstiles ahead, the train station behind, the emergency error messages blaring-

A small spark at the back of your head made you wince. It was all you could do to get focus back, even as your free hand pressed against the cool metal plate at the back of your head.

“You alright, little lady?” McCree spared you a glance, even as he saw the soldiers starting to enter the previous car.

“Y-yeah, hold on,” You swallowed and focused in on the controls of the train.

McCree was about to throw himself out of the door, ready to roll into the nearest seat for cover, when he saw the train door for the last car slam closed, nearly crushing one soldier and trapping three. There were innocent civilians in that car, but the three soldiers were spooked and more interested in trying to get the previous door open.

He glanced at you again and watched your still form. Jack had tried to get McCree to understand the extent of your abilities, but the cowboy had never heard of ‘Orisa’ and didn’t keep up with news about Omnics, unless it was about rogue AIs. The drone under your hand was no longer limp, but pressing buttons and seemingly overriding commands.

“Well, hot dogs on the fourth of July,” McCree mumbled before he shook himself and opened the door in front of him, intent on clearing the next car of Talon, “Keep that door closed til I come back, little lady.”

You nodded, but you were still focused on the information the train was passing to you.

~*~

Reaper growled as the train lurched with new speed. It was slight, but he could only guess that his target had control of the train.

When Akande had contacted him, asking for his help to retrieve you, Reaper had honestly almost declined. He was on a mission of his own already, hunting down an old Overwatch associate. If it weren’t for the fact that Reaper knew the woman was in Chicago, he probably would have hung up on Akande.

Talon had its uses, but Akande and Maximilien's game of toying with the governments of the world was as boring as it was tired--let humanity evolve through conflict, but Reaper’s goal was more personal, more set on revenge.

“Assume the train is compromised,” He growled through the radio in his ear. Before he could move, there was a gunshot in his ear and a panicked voice came in.

“Mysterious bogey; man in a suit with a 6-shooter is defending target!”

Reaper froze, his head turning as if he might be able to see the voice in his ear, “Repeat that.”

“A stranger with a revolver is in the engine car with the target,” Another, calmer voice answered, “The train doors are forced closed; we’re attempting a breach with C-4.”

“Negative,” Reaper moved back toward the hole that was in the roof the train car he had been standing in, “Try an alternate method and keep their focus; I’m going to flank.”

“10-4; holding position.”

Reaper’s body melted, making a few civilians scream and the smoke floated up through the hole until he was solid again, riding the roof of the train with the helicopter behind him. The pilot was already tossing an explosive bag toward him and he caught it without looking.

“Jesse McCree,” Reaper’s lips moved around the name, but the wind carried the sound away.

~*~

The three soldiers easily fell and McCree fell back into the engine room with you as he reloaded and kept an eye on the far door. The small window built into it gave him a small view of what the rest of the soldiers could be up to, but they were trying to stay out of sight.

“We need to come up with a plan to get you outta here,” McCree said, “That door won’t hold and if they’re as smart as I’m fearin’, they’ll think of something right quick.”

You bit your lip and glanced back at him, “I...I don’t know what to do...other than pull into the station or something.”

McCree shook his head, “That’ll just be a stand-off...hmm…”

He leaned toward a window and chewed on his cigar thoughtfully for a moment, “I wonder if those humvees are tracked…”

You blinked and let go of the drone so you could move next to him and look at the black cars that were pushing to keep up with the middle of the train. You knew how to drive, sure, but it wasn’t exactly an inconspicuous car, especially out here.

“How would we get away in something like that?” You asked incredulously.

McCree opened his mouth to answer you, but the whole train car shook and threw you both to the ground. An explosion ripped open the roof of the train car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, just LISTEN *hides from angry reader* JUST LISTEN...
> 
> I have no real excuse for why I keep forgetting my every other day schedule *quickly dives behind cover again*
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	23. Skedaddle

The explosion threw both you and McCree to the ground and you screamed, covering your ears even though they were already ringing. McCree wrapped an arm around you and managed to pull you both to your feet, moving for the door.

A shotgun blast against the wall in front of his face made him reel back and turn.

A stranger in a white skeletal mask and black hood and cape stood below the hole that had been blasted into the roof. McCree felt his stomach drop just from seeing his silhouette, but there was a cold realization in the way he held two compact shotguns in his hands, both pointed toward you and himself. It couldn’t be who McCree thought it was--it absolutely couldn’t be; the man was nearly 10 years dead and that meant the man in front of them was a copycat or otherwise a phantasm of McCree’s past.

“The woman is coming with me,” The phantom growled, “Get on the ground or leave in a box, whelp.”

It had to be a ghost.

“Well, pardner,” McCree shifted so you were behind him, “Both of those options ain’t to my flavor.”

You panted and glanced around McCree, quaking at the view of the man in front of you. Of anyone you had ever seen, this man was nearly a perfect image of terror; his body was hard and poised, ready to spring into action. The mask conveyed nothing but soulless hatred and you whimpered when he growled at McCree’s response.

Then you noticed movement. Your eyes dropped to McCree’s free hand and you saw him discreetly motioning to a small pouch attached to his belt behind his hip. You blinked and glanced at the terrorizing figure in front of the both of you before you easily slipped your hand into the bag and pulled out a small yellow orb with a small button indented on its surface. You slipped it into McCree’s hand and swallowed before you reached out toward the drone attached to it's chair.

“Please return to-”

The drone had started to turn and speak to the hooded figure and he moved on instinct, turning to fire a shotgun blast into it's head. You screamed again, but McCree was already moving.

His arm flew out and just as the Talon agent turned back to stare at you both. He grunted and cursed, covering his mask with his hands and stumbling away from the strange yellow powder and the bright light that flashed from the yellow orb. McCree didn’t wait to see this reaction; his arm quickly wrapped around you and he yanked you both through the hole in the roof.

You gasped and the wind nearly shifted your balance--the scenery flashing around you was so much more nauseating when there were no walls to guarantee you wouldn’t fall to your death. You whimpered, but McCree was already yanking you back down the train, bypassing the other Talon soldiers and jumping between gaps in the cars. You wanted to close your eyes until the whole ordeal was over, but even blinking made you feel like you would stumble off of the train.

The wind blew by your ears, but somehow, you still heard the blast of a gun and the sound of metal ripping. You screamed, but most of it was lost to the wind as you looked back and saw the wispy outline of the hooded stranger. He had missed his shot--or purposefully was aiming for your feet--and the roof of the train behind you had open holes from the buck shot. You felt like crying, but your eyes were already watering from the wind.

You did let out a quick gasp when McCree’s arms were suddenly around you and you finally screamed when he suddenly jumped off the train.

Your arms were around his neck and shoulders, holding tightly as his left arm quickly let go of your waist so he could catch the top of the Humvee that had tried to swerve out of the way. It was a close thing and you felt sick as you saw the ground--much closer, so much closer--beneath your dangling legs. The way he had caught the car, your back was pressed into the car and he was pressed into you.

The humvee swerved again and started to slow down, letting the train speed away and putting much needed distance between the two of you and the hooded figure standing stoically on top of the train near the helicopter.

“Hold on, little lady,” McCree drawled in your ear. You were confused until he quickly flipped his body around so his back was now to the humvee--his other arm left your waist, leaving you to hold onto him all by yourself. He lifted his right arm and shot twice, making the engine of the helicopter smoke and it shot out sparks of electricity that struck out at random.

Reaper growled again and cursed McCree as the helicopter pilot tried to put out the small fire that had started in the engine. He quickly got on the radio.

“Team Beta, don’t lose those two!” He ordered, “Team Alpha retreat and prepare for alternate extraction.”

McCree reached for the door of the humvee and yanked the handle, cursing quietly when it didn’t open.

“Watch your eyes, little lady,” He grunted before his metal arm gripped the roof of the car tighter and the elbow of his right arm came swiftly against the window of the car. He grunted when it shattered, but he had to hit it again before the glass started to fall away.

“Pardon me, mister,” McCree reached in and grabbed the man, managing to pull him halfway out the window before his elbow knocked the man the rest of the way out. The car lurched as his body fell under the rear tire and you felt sick again, “Climb in, quick.”

You saw him open the door from the inside and you quickly scrambled inside with his help--the whole situation from the moment you left the train took less than a minute and you were sure that you might have died and this was a fever dream from your last few moments alive, but McCree didn’t seem perturbed as he quickly regained control of the car and swerved away from the train, heading for a dirt trail that lead toward a lake and a thick forest.

“Wh-what are we doing now?” You breathed, trying to hold yourself still with the dashboard and the door of the car.

He turned to watch the other black humvees pull in behind you both, preparing for a chase, “Care to do me a favor, little lady?”

You glanced back as well and swallowed hard, “S-sure...”

You saw a small smirk curl on his lips before he continued, “You ever shoot a gun before?”

“Well, no,” You were nearly thrown against the car door as the two of you sped over a tree root, “Unless you count a paint gun; and even then, only once.”

“Then I hope you don’t mind driving,” He reached down and pulled the seat back on it's track, motioning for you to move into the space, “C’mon, we’ll make this quick and easy.”

He reached forward and you saw him twist a knob on the radio, silencing the chatter that had been nothing more than background noise to you up to that point. You swallowed, but followed his lead and climbed between his legs, your fingers wrapping tightly around the steering wheel and your foot nudging his off of the gas pedal.

“There you go, darlin’,” He encouraged before he managed to slip around you and headed for the back of the car, “Now, go ahead and slow down a little--just let that guy behind us give ya a love tap…”

You had no idea what he was planning or how the two of you were going to get out of this, but you trusted him--despite your life up to this point and your wariness of who he could be working for and why they wanted you, you trusted him--so you let your foot off the brake just enough for the black car behind the two of you to catch up. You braced yourself, but just before the car could hit your bumper, McCree suddenly burst out of the back of the car and landed on the hood of the car behind.

You cried out and nearly slammed on the breaks before you saw his body move and slide over the outside, entering the humvee as easily as he had the one you were currently sitting in. The man had to be some sort of government agent, or maybe he was retired? You weren’t entirely sure of his story or background, but you were suddenly appreciative of the fact that he wasn’t treating you like an enemy.

“Can you hear me, little lady?”

You jumped and looked down at the radio as it crackled to life; you fumbled for a moment and managed to grab the small hand-held part of it.

“Y-yes! I can hear you,” You fumbled with the button, “I can hear you, Joel.”

“Jesse.”

“Huh?” You glanced into your rearview and saw his car start to fall back.

“My name is Jesse McCree; Joel Morricone is my pen name,” He said with a warm chuckle.

You started to slow the car down as you watched him pull back more. You couldn’t easily turn around now that you were following the dirt trail through the forest, but maybe-

“Now, what are you doin’ there, little lady?” McCree chuckled, “You head on, get out of here before they figure out where you might come out on the other side; I’ll hold the fort here.”

“W-wait, I thought-” You stopped yourself and pressed your lips together, “Jesse, are you sure?”

McCree’s answer was stalled by his trying to run another humvee into a tree--the bright red of the explosion made you lean away from the rear-facing mirrors.

“Listen, darlin’,” McCree drawled easily, “You and I aren’t so different and maybe this is my way of passing on a kindness that was done for me, years ago.”

You watched your rearview mirror as much as you could without hitting a tree or ending up off the dirt road. You couldn’t see him through the windshield anymore and he was leaning out the window, shooting backwards.

Of anyone who could have found you...You swallowed and pressed onto the gas, speeding away from the impending car wreck behind you. A part of you hoped with everything in you that Jesse McCree would survive this; his kindness deserved that at the very least.

~*~

Reaper stared after the convoy of humvees long after they disappeared into the nearby treeline. He caught the bright orange through the trees once or twice before the train quickly sped away, still intent on it's destination--at least until your influence disappeared. Then the weight of the helicopter next to him began to slow the train again, now that it's engine was fried.

“McCree,” The name left his mouth before he realized his mouth was moving. So many memories flooded him: a young, scared punk in an interrogation room, a blooming young man with an eye for trouble and a harder work ethic than anyone Reaper had ever known--than anyone _Gabriel Reyes_ had ever known.

Maybe the brat had finally listened and that’s why he was dressed to the nines while he had been helping you. Maybe he hadn’t and that was why he had been on this train in the first place.

_Everyone hopes the next generation will be better, will reach higher, will love harder; that’s why I push you. I want you to be better than me, better than Morrison. I want the best you that you can achieve._

The words felt like something he might have said, a lifetime ago. Now, they felt empty and bitter, like ichor in his mind. Overwatch had taken everything from Reaper; it had taken everything and given him nothing but a broken body and a ruined reputation. But his will…

Reaper ignored the fact that if he had tried, he more than definitely could have continued the fight with McCree and taken you back. He ignored the hesitation in the parts of his body that mattered: his trigger fingers. He ignored the dull ache in the middle of his chest as he watched the man who could have been a son disappear into the landscape.

He ignored the still small voice that sounded too much like an old love, and instead called in a new chopper to ensure his team escaped before Chicago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, at some point, you'd think I would remember I have this magical device that never leaves my side that's called a CELL PHONE that has this cool app that helps me SET REMINDERS.
> 
> I'm a mess, y'all xD.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys liked the chapter, I"m thinking of changing my update schedule to twice a week (Prob Saturdays and Tuesdays? idk, leave a comment if you have a preference lol) just to help my slow ass to keep writing chapters. I've finished up to 35, but I'm in the third arc of this bad boy and need ideas for Overwatch missions. So...we'll see how this goes for now haha.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	24. The Scalloped Edges

Junkrat and Roadhog watched the chaos of the train from afar, their stolen motorcycle and sidecar keeping up just fine. Roadhog could always appreciate a beautiful bike, but even one as nice as this wasn’t as good as his own bike, which he had left in the Gibraltar garage. It was definitely for the best, considering how far they had come already, pursuing this woman.

“Lookit that, Roadie,” Junkrat slapped Roadhog’s large stomach with the back of his hand, “Seems like we’re late for the party.”

He giggled, but Roadhog pointed to the humvees that were pulling off to one side, heading for a thick forest.

“Hmm? Those blokes are gunna miss the action,” Junkrat scoffed until Roadhog dropped his head in disappointment, “Eh? OH! Those blokes are the action! Roadie, we gotta go!”

Roadhog was already leaning with his turn as he diverted their path toward the last car in the parade. By the time they caught up, there was only one humvee left and it had pulled off to the side and had a man in a rumpled and ripped suit sitting on top of it.

“You boys lost?” The man asked darkly, “This ain’t any sort of place for respectable folks.”

Junkrat huffed and threw out his chest, “Oi! We’re from Overwatch and we’ll be where we like, ya drongo!” 

McCree nearly fell off the top of the car as the skinny man yelled this; he rubbed the back of his head, ignoring that half of his hair had long fallen out of the ponytail holder. How desperate was Jack?

“So what’s Overwatch want here?” McCree finally lit his cigar, eyeing the two of them.

“We’re looking for a sheila! About yeigh high, tits out to here,” Junkrat stood in the sidecar in order to perform his description of you.

Roadhog grunted before he spoke over Junkrat.

“You helped her,” He guessed more than he knew, but from the way McCree froze in surprise, Roadhog knew he was right, “We’re going after her; which way?”

McCree studied the two of them and to give himself time to think, he lazily drawled, “Ain’t the pair of you got a hefty price on ya’ll’s heads?”

Junkrat blinked before he chuckled nervously, “Mate, we can talk about that sorta thing later; can’t we, Roadie?”

Roadhog grunted, but continued to hold McCree in a hard stare, waiting for his answer. McCree was unnerved by the larger man; he sat and stared, and the only movement were the large powerful breaths that moved his whole body. The man was like a bull who had caught sight of something red.

“Don’t rightly know where she was headed,” McCree admitted before he moved to stand on top of the black car, “If’n she’s smart, she’ll use this chance to get 5 steps ahead a’ Talon and you fellas in one fell swoop.”

He chuckled and ignored Junkrat’s cursing and Roadhog’s growling. Instead, he hopped down into the car and started it up.

“See you boys ‘round, now, y’hear?” McCree turned around and headed back for the train tracks, intent on following them to Chicago.

Junkrat sat back down in the sidecar with his arms crossed and a pout on his lips, “Now that was a rude bloke.”

“Back to the News, then,” Roadhog grunted and decided to follow the dirt road; even if you did end up 5 steps ahead, it would be better to follow your trail than leave it.

“Back to the News,” Junkrat agreed and pulled out a small communicator that he spent a few minutes yelling and cursing at until it started putting out a signal.

A giggle left Junkrat’s mouth as a voice over the communicator began sprouting random names, along with frequencies; to anyone not in the know, it was simply a long spiel of gibberish that didn’t mean anything. A couple of old Junkers like Roadhog and Junkrat knew the truth and the code. This was a list of criminal informants willing to trade in secrets and information; an underground network of information brokers.

They’d pick up your trail again, and even Talon couldn’t keep up. If they were really as smart as they thought, then they’d be in on this. It was the real difference between criminals. Organizations like Talon had the money and the brains, but it when it came to true grit and innovation, it was the Junkers and the Los Muertos who kept the edge sharp.

“Alright, Roadie,” Junkrat giggled and squirmed violently like an overexcited child, “LET’S GO!”

“M’already going,” Roadhog grunted, trying to rib the younger man.

“Well blasted off, I knew that! Ya drongo!”

~*~

“Where did ya find those two, Jack?” McCree chewed on his cigar as he drove alongside the train track.

“Jamison got word of Overwatch reforming and offered his and his bodyguard’s services,” Jack rubbed his face, sitting back in his chair as he spoke with McCree over the secure channel, “He said something about trying to go legit ‘for real’ and Winston caved.”

“Ya’ll that desperate for members this time ‘round?”

Jack sighed and leaned forward in his chair, “...McCree there are only 12-er, uh 13--13 of us. We don’t even have an administration staff; it's just a few of us who can’t stand by and watch the world burn anymore.”

“So this time it's legitimate?” McCree set his jaw, his eyebrows coming together, “No secrets or special task forces?”

“We don’t even have a proper medbay,” Jack chuckled, but it was grim, “We learned a lot of lessons from last time, Jesse--no more secrets, no more Blackwatch.”

Silence took over both ends of the line for a long time while both parties sat in knowing silence. So much had gone wrong last time, so many people had died…

“How long have you known he wasn’t dead?” McCree suddenly asked.

If McCree would have been able to see Jack’s face, then he might have been surprised by the face Jack was making. Gabriel Reyes and Jack Morrison had been squadmates and brothers-at-arms for decades; they had both dedicated their lives to protecting the American way and the people they loved, both had joined the Soldier Enhancement Program and both had joined Overwatch.

“...I’ve had my suspicions since the explosion at the Switzerland Watchpoint,” Jack answered quietly, “But I didn’t run into him until a few months ago--Ana had to save me from that one.”

McCree cursed, “Ms. Amani is alive too? Jack, what the hell is goin’ on over there?”

“I wish I could tell you,” Jack answered, “All I know is that it feels like we were made the butt of some joke and I’m not laughing.”

“The butt of...You don’t think we were set up, do ya?” McCree’s voice lost a lot of its strength at the suggestion, “Jack, you can’t be serious, now; that would mean that someone on the inside sold us out!”

Jack didn’t answer; too much, too soon. Right now, he couldn’t begin to guess what sort of plot they had fallen into when the Petras Act finally ended them for good. Hindsight was 20/20 and it was looking like they had been lead to their demise like lambs to the slaughter.

“...Jesse, I know you’ve said you want no part,” Jack hated how defeated he sounded, hated that this felt like he was begging, because in a way he was, “But we’re barely keeping afloat over here; we could use a good leader like you, and not just to balance out the wackos.”

McCree smiled despite himself, “Hey now, ol’ hoss, don’t get your britches in a twist--I think it's time I stop on by and see just what you’re up to over there.”

Jack released the breath he was holding and laughed, “McCree, you sunuvabitch...I’ll have Winston send his finest Carrier.”

“Well, that sounds mighty fine, boss,” McCree pulled away from the tracks as he neared the edge of the train yard. Pulling onto a street and into the city proper would only take a little while longer.

“Just keep an eye out, McCree,” Jack suddenly sounded grim again, “Reyes isn’t taking prisoners anymore.”

The reminder of the past was so strong, McCree almost had to pull over; he could still feel the chill of the air conditioner and the bite of the handcuffs around his wrists--he could remember the tough-as-nails Reyes playing the bad cop and Jack playing the good cop, trying to gain his favor. McCree wondered what the men had thought when McCree had bonded Reyes easier than he had Jack.

“Yeah, guess my luck’s finally run out,” McCree said absently, “I’ll see you soon, boss.”

~*~

Ruesso lounged on his prison cot, a small white pill turning over in his fingers. The envelope that it had been inside of was discarded on the floor, along with the ‘Happy Birthday!’ card that had also been in the envelope.

_A Parting Gift._

The envelope had been left, sitting on top of his pillow in his single-cell (a luxury in this Nigerian prison, he was sure) and despite everything, Ruesso knew exactly who it was from, even though there was no signature.

Akande and Maximilien were done with him; he had done his duty and he had played into their plans for the asset. Otherwise, he would have to worry about Widowmaker’s scope, not the little white pill that was now staring back at him from the middle of his palm. The pill was a mercy--he wouldn’t have to answer for his international crimes, he wouldn’t have to face the family he had left behind while they found out about his numerous atrocities, he could just...sleep.

Ruesso wasn’t dumb enough to believe this decision was in his hands, however; if he didn’t take this pill, there would likely be other, more violent attempts at getting rid of him. He knew too much, had his hand in too many things over the past two decades. This was it. Talon was done with him.

All that was left was choosing how to end it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say that LeewadeeLeewada and Illilex0DarkFire are smarties? You guys are so cool :D
> 
> Anyway, the plot thickens!! A possible set-up and now McCree is joining the roster! Let's see where this goes, eh?
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	25. Even After Three Weeks

You had tried to stay on the run in the States, but whether on accident or purposefully, Talon seemed to be everywhere. Too many narrow escapes sent you across the Atlantic again, back into Europe. You started on the coast of France and decided to travel northward along the coastline.

At the first city, you managed to earn enough money begging for change to buy a basic camping set and a fishing rod that could fold in half so you could pack it into your bag. Sleeping under the stars (or in the tent when it got rainy) wasn’t as nice as a bed and warm meals, but you marveled at yourself.

Before all this happened, you never dreamed you could survive on your own in the wilderness, or be strong enough to face what was thrown at you every day. It was amazing, but a part of you couldn’t help but be bitter. Talon had ruined your life--you would have been just fine living out your life unimpeded and left alone.

Today, you had run across a small coastal town where horse-drawn carriages were as common on the roads as automated cars were and it was awe-inspiring to see a horse lean down to inspect an omnic’s face and accept food from it. You pulled your hat off your head and tried to put your fingers through your short cropped hair to make it more presentable, but you hadn’t been able to do more than sponge-bath yourself recently, so you simply pulled your hat back down around your ears and walked into what seemed to be a pub and eatery.

The air was smokey and thick with hushed conversations. Conversations that stopped for a long while when you appeared in the doorway. You let your eyes drop to the floor as you stepped inside and headed for the bar. The mirror behind it gave the room a musty glow as it reflected the noon-time light of day.

You stuck your leg inside of the strap of your backpack and crossed your ankles to secure the bag before you leaned forward in the stool and smiled at the man attending the bar.

“Hi, do you guys have soup?”

The bartender motioned to a chalkboard on the wall near where you entered and you twisted in your seat to see what was there. The choices were simple, but made your stomach growl. You blushed and picked the first hot option that you could afford before you reached into your pocket and pulled out the last of your cash, counting it in your lap before you paid the bartender and ordered water with your meal.

“So who’re you?”

You blinked and glanced toward the woman sitting a few seat away from you, “I’m sorry?”

“This is a small town and everyone knows everyone; I’m Lucille,” The woman’s accent was fluid and that of a native; you offered her a polite smile and offered her your name.

“I’m backpacking across Europe,” You said easily; it had been your excuse since you hand landed in France and you stuck to it now, “Now I’m wondering if I’ll find somewhere to earn a little pocket money before I go on my way.”

The second part had mostly been you thinking out loud; you were down to less than 50 dollars and that was a little uncomfortable for you.

“The Devaux’s have been needing an extra hand,” The man sitting next to Lucille broke in, swirling his drink in front of him before he glanced at you.

“The Devaux’s?” You asked, glancing between the man and woman.

“They’re an older couple who live on the south side of town,” Lucille supplied easily, “They have a sheep farm and their son just moved to Paris this past summer.”

You glanced between them again, “Thanks for the advice, but...why are you helping me?”

Lucille snorted and drained her glass, “Bernard can’t resist a pretty girl, that’s why.”

Bernard suddenly turned bright red and sputtered in french, which left Lucille laughing and slapping the bar, tears entering her eyes as he grunted and pulled his hat lower on his head as if it could hide the embarrassed color on his face.

“Ah, oui, we all know of your pretty little wife,” Lucille laughed and wiped her cheek, “Don’t worry, Bernard, I’ll show her the way and spare your dignity.”

Bernard sputtered again and Lucille shook her head before she changed chairs in order to sit next to you. Your food arrived right then, so you tucked in as the woman continued to talk to you; her lips were glossed and shone prettily in the hazy light of the bar and you absently wondered if she had someone herself. It wasn’t wise to get too involved, but your run in with Jesse had reminded you how lonely you were.

A part of you almost wished things would have ended a little differently--if you would have known how isolated you had to stay, you might have just gone willingly with Jesse. It had to be better than this, and it was no doubt better than Talon. Still, the thought passed as she started to talk about her boyfriend and the who-was-sleeping-with-who chatter.

The Devaux farm was about 30 minutes outside of town and it was lucky that Lucille owned a car. The roads weren’t paved, but it had been packed down tightly after years of traffic. The trees that lined the road were already changing color, even though fall hadn’t quite arrived yet. You watched the green hills and the old worn fences of properties pass by.

Then you were startled when the car came around a curve and the two of you passed an omnic--an omnic who was sitting on _air_.

“Woah!” You let out a noise of surprise, and Lucille laughed quietly.

“Don’t let it bother you,” Lucille said after she stopped laughing and her car slowed to a stop, “That’s just a wandering Omnic named Zenyatta--the Devauxs are letting him stay in their barn while he spreads his spiritual message.”

From her tone, you could tell Lucille thought the idea of a spiritual omnic was funny, but you saw the omnic coming closer and you wondered. After Mobo and Orisa, you hadn’t taken control of another omnic, but you remembered the both of them easily. Both had still spoken with you while you had control of their bodies, both still begged you to spare their loved ones, both were now-

You pressed your lips together as Lucille leaned out of her window.

“Zenyatta! Do you want a ride?” Lucille was already unlocking the doors and motioning him closer.

The omnic lowered his legs and walked closer to the car, leaning down and serenely speaking with Lucille.

“Your kindness is welcomed; are you sure I am not putting out you and your friend?”

His voice echoed in his head and chest, like with most omnics and droids, but there was a warmth to it that even you hadn’t expected. The clothing he wore was worn and showed that he had owned it a long time, or else had been exposed to the elements--you were sure it was this option; Lucille had mentioned he was a wandering omnic--but even you could see that they had been fine robes that reminded you of pictures you had seen of buddhist monks or something of the like.

“Nah, she doesn’t mind, do you? We’re heading out to the Devaux farm anyway,” Lucille motioned to you and you quickly shook your head even though she wasn’t paying any mind to you.

“I don’t mind, really,” You quickly added to make sure they knew.

“Then I thank you, Lucille.”

He climbed into the back of the car, but instead of sitting normally, he crossed his legs in his seat, seeming more comfortable that way. You glanced back at him as the car started to move again.

The omnic inclined his head toward you, “I am Zenyatta, of the Shambali Order.”

You quickly introduced yourself, “What are the Shambali? I don’t think I’ve heard of them.”

“Oh, don’t get him started in my car,” Lucille snorted, “The farm is just a few minutes down this road.”

Despite your first thought, Zenyatta didn’t seem offended, “I suppose I do talk a lot when the subject comes up; it's only natural to dwell on home and family.”

Home and family, huh? You found yourself staring at the dashboard as you started to think about your own life before Talon. Family had been more a strange term than anything that meant anything to you. And home? Home had been New York, after the accident, but had it really? It was hard to call anything a home when you would have to find a new apartment every time the lease expired.

As if he could read your mind, Zenyatta suddenly said, “Feeling displaced and homeless is usually a sign of disquiet in one’s soul.”

You turned your head to look back at him so quickly, Lucille actually laughed again.

“He’s always saying things like that,” Lucille soothed, but you couldn’t look away from the glowing blue lights on his unmoving face; in turn, he turned to look back at you.

“We’re here!” Lucille said in a sing-song voice, not seeming to notice anything was amiss at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maaaaaaaannnn, I reread my chapters before I post them and its been a little while since I read this one and I actually am surprised to find I'm still happy with what I have. Gotta say, that doesn't happy often, but considering this is def going to be a long piece of work, I'm hoping this trend keeps up, haha.
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	26. Resolute (Or: Every Iris Has A Pupil)

The Devauxs were a kind couple, who practically adopted you--or tried to; you didn’t want to take advantage of their kindness and made sure you helped around the farm as they both moved through their chores for the day. Zenyatta, who usually spent his days in town you were told, started to stay at the farm more and more, usually following your lead by helping out with chores and the heavy lifting the couple needed now that they were preparing for fall and the impending winter.

“We shear the sheep before the heat of summer,” Annalise Devaux told you, her silver hair pulled back in a messy bun, “then we dry it out and groom it over the summer and fall; we sell the yarn we make and the blankets that I knit over the wintertime to keep this place afloat.”

Along with the yarn and blankets, the Devauxs also kept chickens for their eggs and two cows for their milk and sold the excess to their neighbors. You almost admired and envied their simply farm life, except you were already chafed under the work and it had only been a week.

Today, you and Zenyatta had been left alone to brush and sort a pile of wool while Annalise and her husband Jean left for the day to shop for things they needed in town and had put off because of the work around the farm. Despite Zenyatta’s unusual comment in the car on that first day, he hadn’t repeated it or tried to pry into your past so you had simply accepted that perhaps it was just a secondary comment he had made. He did have the ‘mysterious spiritual guru’ aura down pat, you reasoned to yourself.

The two large combs in your hands slipped together clumsily as you brushed the tangles and dirt from the wool--despite this, you were proud of yourself; the first day Annalise had shown you how to do this, you couldn’t hardly finish your own small pile of wool while the older woman nearly went through half a bag in the same time. You still didn’t have the speed, but you and Zenyatta were working out of the same bag of wool and it was already half empty.

The silence was starting to get to you, though. Zenyatta seemed at peace with whatever the world threw his way and you were shifting uncomfortably while glancing up at him between brushings.

“You never answered me,” You finally said as casually as you could, “About the Shambali, I mean; I really did want to know.”

He shifted his attention to you, even as his hands fluidly worked the brushes and wool--he was definitely a machine in his meticulous nature and easy handling of the instruments, “Ah, my apologies; what would you like to know?”

You shrugged, “Well, just what do the Shambali believe? Are you guys monks or something?”

A chuckle left him but he nodded, “Monks or something; we of the Shambali believe that omnics have what humans would call a soul, and that in the Iris, we are all one and the same. We simply walk our paths using different modes of transportation--you with your human body, and I with my hardware and programming.”

The brushes in your hands slowed, even as your eyes focused on their movements. A soul, huh? You didn’t disagree, in fact in made sense to you. What else had those voices been, but the souls of the omnics you had imposed your will over.

“What about...you know, drones? Robots?” You glanced up at him, curious and almost afraid to hear his answer.

“A valid question,” Zenyatta nodded, “However, while drones and robots possess the same building blocks as Omnics, they are simply machines, following their programing and nothing more. Perhaps if they receive the blessing of spontaneous AI, or if someone were to equipt them with such, my answer would change.”

You looked up at him, your hands stilling; you hated how relieved you felt over his answer--it was almost like you had received permission and it made you feel dirty. Still, his hands moved at his task.

Silence fell again for a moment before you asked, “So, what’s the Iris?”

“It is the Eye that views us all; the Universe in it's eternal wisdom. Perhaps a form of God, if that helps you understand how the Shambali view it.”

The Universe, huh? You wondered after that, but didn’t ask anymore questions. For Zenyatta, though, you seemed to have opened a window of communication he was more than willing to use.

“What of you?” He asked quietly, “You have shed your worldly possessions and have chosen to travel; are you running toward something? Or away?”

You started and nearly dropped your tools; you swallowed and shrugged, trying to find an answer--any answer--but you were fumbling. Everyone you had run across up until now had just accepted your answer and left it be. You were backpacking across Europe, what more could there be? Zenyatta seemed to just _know_ that there was more, but you had no way of knowing if he could guess or simply read you that well.

“I-” You swallowed and looked down at the bag of wool between the both of you, “Nothing; I’m not really going anywhere or running from anything.”

Even to your own ears, it sounded like a lie, but Zenyatta nodded slowly as if he expected an answer like that.

“Perhaps you are not comfortable sharing with a stranger,” He reasoned out loud and you blinked slowly, “And that is understandable. I hope we can become friends, however.”

Friends? You looked back up at him and saw him raise a hand to his face as if he were shy and you found yourself smiling.

“I...would like to be friends with you, Zenyatta,” You finally said, a small warm feeling opening up in your stomach as you admitted this.

Time spent on the Devaux farm moved in strange ways--sometimes, you would be set on a task and the work would make time fly by; other times it felt you were set on a task and each minute multiplied in itself and dragged the day out in a long slow drawl that reminded you of wisps of smoke that left Jean Devaux’s pipe at night when he lit it after dinner.

“I do wish you would quit,” Annalise would say, and Jean would always demand an old man be left to his comforts.

Zenyatta often joined the three of you for dinner, though he couldn’t actually eat; instead, he offered his company and conversation, which Jean seemed to enjoy greatly. Annalise would usually steal you away to the kitchen to clean, but otherwise, you usually sat silently and listened to the two of them speak on religion and the politics of the world. It wasn’t a surprise that Zenyatta could often quote world leaders--you were more often than not reminded that he was a indeed a machine, soul or no--but it did often surprise you how forgiving he was when Jean would bring up laws or politicians whose sole purpose seemed to be making the lives of omnics harder.

“Of course, Mondatta was a great loss, eh?” Jean said one night, making Analise make a scathing noise under her breath.

“There is no need to bring up such a sad event!” Annalise scolded, “Especially with someone who knew him!”

“It is quite alright,” Zenyatta soothed, “Mondatta was a dear friend--closer than a brother in many ways. Eventually, we all become One with the Universe.”

The words stuck with you for a long time that night. Eventually we all become one with the Universe. More than believing it, Zenyatta had sounded like he desperately hoped it to be true, though you doubted Jean or Annalise had heard it that way; they had offered their condolences and the discussion had moved on from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gotta tell you guys, if Roadhog wasn't my current obsession, Zenyatta would be (also fun fact: There was one point during the writing process where I thought about switching the pairing; there's not enough Zenyatta love, and I thought the idea of the reader would fit better with an Omnic pairing because of her powers and whatnot). Still! We're getting closer and closer to when Readz and Roadhog meet!! WHOO!
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	27. I Have Traveled Long Roads

It really spoke to the Devaux’s kindness that they neither charged you rent or for the food they gave to you, both during your stay and as you prepared to pack your bags and continue up the coast. You were just surprised that Zenyatta had chosen to move on as well.

“Are you sure? I thought you had more ‘Iris-spreading’ to do here,” You saw him shake his head and you asked, “Where do you plan on going?”

“I think I will let destiny decide,” He had answered serenely.

You shrugged and finished packing your bag.

“I hope you have a safe journey,” Annalise said, pressing her lips together, “Oh, it's like saying goodbye to Robert again…”

“Nonsense, Anna,” Jean shushed his wife and shook your hand first and then Zenyatta’s, “You both travel well.”

“Thank you both,” You said, easily.

“Your generosity is much appreciated,” Zenyatta was hovering again.

It wasn’t until the both of you had made it through town and kept along the coast together that you turned to Zenyatta and raised an eyebrow.

“Is ‘destiny’ telling you to go this way?” You asked, shifting your bag on your shoulder as you glanced sideways at him.

“Destiny is telling _you_ to go this way,” Zenyatta corrected, “And I happen to be travelling with you, so...yes, in a way.”

He chuckled and you snorted and shook your head, “So you’re just going to follow me?”

“Only if I fall behind,” He assured you, “For now, I seem to be travelling at your side just fine.”

A part of you wondered at the wisdom of an omnic following you around--you were more worried for his safety than yours--but he was as harmless as you thought an omnic could be and you realized how much you really liked his company. You weren’t sure if it was because of the two weeks you had spent earning money with him nearby, or maybe it was an easy answer, but you found you really did want him there.

“So why are you a wandering monk?” You stepped off the road as a car came close and watched Zenyatta simply shift away without it perturbing him much.

“To prove a point,” He said easily, offering you a hand to help you step back up onto the road. You took it without thinking and glanced up at him as he let go after.

“What, like, a competition or something?” You tilted your head easily.

“Hmmm, less so a competition,” Zenyatta pondered slowly, “There was a difference in opinion at our Temple.”

“You’re being vague, I think.”

Zenyatta chuckled and the sound made you smile, “Perhaps I am; I do not mean to be. The Shambali believe that we are all one within the Iris as I’ve told you. Our order witnessed many gruesome acts that befell our fellow omnics and we wanted to offer our aid in some way. Most of our Temple believed that dogmatic teaching and evangelism was the way to help the world see omnics as more than just machines. I, however, believe that the dogma will simpily be treated as another fruitless religion of the world, often quoted but never learned.”

You were staring down at the road as he spoke, “Was this recent?”

“Perhaps not as recent as immediate memory, but my dear friend Mondatta was killed only less than a year ago, which, from what I understand, has put a temporary hold on my brothers’ plans for outreach and teachings,” Zenyatta said this evenly, but even you could hear the way his voice lowered to a somber note.

“I’m sorry about Mondatta,” You sound quietly, “I know I’ve said it before, but I hope you find healing.”

“That is kind of you,” He answered, “So, may I ask again about yourself?”

You glanced at him uncomfortably, but you shrugged one shoulder, “I suppose it’s fine.”

The way you answered made Zenyatta pause for a moment to consider his thoughts and curiosities. There was a disquiet, not just in your soul, but in the rest of you as well. You seemed so uncomfortable, even in your own skin. A large part of you reminded him of Genji, except instead of turning to anger as his pupil had, you had turned to burying yourself away, protecting yourself from threats that you saw everywhere around you.

“There is a flower that grows at the Shambali Temple, that I am quite fond of,” Zenyatta began, and you were thrown off guard by his sudden change of subject, “It is a special type of Jasmine that only blooms at night, because the petals of this flower are delicate and cannot handle direct sunlight.”

You pressed your lips together, raising an eyebrow toward the Omnic, “Okay…”

“I think I prefer this flower because of how it reminds me of my student, Genji.”

Genji? You tilted your head and found yourself curious, “I didn’t realize you took on students.”

“Every now and then, when the need is great; or when my soul moves for them,” He answered easily, “Genji was drowning in self-loathing and anger, and everything in me wanted to reach out and pull him from the depths, so he could breathe.”

“...It sounds like he means a lot to you.” You said quietly.

“Very much so,” Zenyatta admitted, “He is like a brother and there are few who I have cultivated as much trust in.”

You were silent for a few minutes, letting that sink in, “So why does he remind you of that flower?”

“Genji was initially very difficult to communicate with or teach,” Zenyatta said, “He had closed in on himself in order to protect that last pieces of his vulnerability and his words and actions lashed out at any who tried to come too closer. For a long while, I was afraid I would not be able to reach him and he would be lost to his darkness; I felt like a gardener who had decided to grow a new, mysterious flower that I had no real knowledge of.”

It slowly dawned on you what he was trying to say.

“You wanted him to bloom, but you had to learn when was the appropriate moment,” You said quietly.

Zenyatta chuckled and praised, “Yes, you see clearly what I had to learn the hard way; I learned that I could not force a person to be anything than what they will be and in that I am better suited to helping by simply allowing myself to learn. To be the pupil.”

“Is that your way of saying you won’t pry into anything I’m not comfortable in sharing?” You turned to smile at him, one corner of your mouth quirking up higher than the other.

“No,” Zenyatta stared ahead, “That was my way of saying that I have the patience to get past your shell, eventually.”

You were startled into a laugh at his brutal honesty, your hand jumping up to cover your mouth, “W-wow, now I’m never telling you _anything_.” You teased.

“Hmm, perhaps this is one of those moments that humans prefer more discretion, rather than honesty.”

That sent you into another wave of giggles and laughter.

~*~

Akande read the reports that shuffled in his hands. You had been spotted in New York, Chicago, and the last report they had stated France. You were certainly keeping yourself on the move and if you had been anyone else, any other project, you likely would have been able to disappear like vapor in the wind. Except that you weren’t anyone else; you were an expensive and important tool, one they couldn’t afford to rebuild or allow to fall into enemy hands.

The helicopter he was in jolted with a little turbulence, but what was to be expected when flying through a storm? Europe had managed to avoid a lot of the worse side effects of the Omnic Crisis so many decades prior, but one that caused the most destruction was the storms that would gather near mountain ranges and spread outward, leaving flooding and destruction in their wake. It was the ultimate conflict: Man vs. the very Heavens themselves. Primal man had dragged themselves through evolution thanks to the conflict of their environment, and the harshness of the world.

Akande thought it was high time for that conflict to resume.

“How long until we land,” Akande demanded through his headset.

“45 minutes, I have to go around-”

“Go straight through,” Akande said dangerously.

“B-but, sir! We’ll get ripped to pieces!”

“Go. Straight.”

The pilot physically turned to look back at Akande and shivered when he found hard brown eyes staring back at him through the rolling thunder and lightning. The man was crazy, the pilot thought, but he had a sudden thought: what did that make him since he was going to follow Akande’s orders?

Akande settled back into his seat as the pilot pressed forward through the storm; his thoughts were back on you. Just what would be the nail in your coffin? The temptation that brought you to his side? Pacification? That was always an option, but even he knew the practice wasn’t perfect. And what of your abilities?

No, he would want to win you over, if he could. All you needed was a friend. He chuckled, and sat back. Yes, just a friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll eventually keep my posting schedule without fucking it up. Probably. :D
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	28. Hold My Hand and Dance

Zenyatta and you traveled into Belgium along the coast, taking more and more roads and sidewalks as you both approached Bruges, a port city that was actually fairly large. The older buildings and canals gave the city a charm that made you smile and feel nostalgic, even though you had never been here before.

“Perhaps in past life?” Zenyatta had offered when you shared these feelings with him.

“Maybe,” You shrugged; you weren’t sure how much you subscribed to Zenyatta’s spiritual way of thinking, but there was certainly something about the city that made you feel more relaxed. This was another city where omnics walked freely, though there were less in number. No one gave a second glance at Zenyatta, despite his floating along beside you, so you didn’t dwell on it for too long.

“What was it about dance that attracted you?” Zenyatta and you were walking the streets of the town, exploring and sating your curiosity of the place.

It was a fair question and you paused at a window that lead into a clothing store. You stared up at the mannequins and shifted your bag on your shoulder. You had easily shared your past--the part of your past before Talon, that was--and Zenyatta had been eager to listen. He had never known a human dancer, and you had giggled at his enthusiastic questions.

“Well, I guess a lot of it had to do with the fact that I was good at it--it came easy to me and working hard at it hardly felt like work at all,” You admitted quietly, more focusing on your reflection than the actual clothes inside.

“There is nothing wrong with taking pride in something you have poured hard work into,” Zenyatta assured, moving to hover next to you.

You nodded, “More than that, I guess, I just loved feeling like I could disappear into the music when I danced; if I closed my eyes, then it was entirely probably that I would just cease to exist outside of that moment. I was made of sound and cadence and that was all.”

“Freedom.”

The word shocked you back into the present and you glanced at Zenyatta, “Huh?”

“The feeling you describe sounds much like the ideal of true freedom,” Zenyatta explained, “True freedom in that sense is to even be free of the illusion of reality, to become one with the Universe.”

“I dunno,” You teased, “Becoming ‘one with the Universe’ just sounds like another type of prison, not freedom.”

He nodded slowly, considering your words, “Perhaps it is; it is hard to be certain of what happens once our current forms disappear and our spirits are freed into the ‘After’.”

“After? You mean the afterlife?”

Zenyatta made a noise you thought might be a huff, “I do not like that word, ‘afterlife’; it assumes that what comes next cannot possibly be anything other than death.”

“Well, we do have to die to get there,” You smiled at him and continued to walk down the street.

“But death is not the end of the story,” Zenyatta pressed gently, “It is simply a doorway we all must pass through; what comes after is something else, but not the end of life. Life comes from the vast, unknowable soul.”

Vast and unknowable? What lofty words; they left you feeling something in your stomach, something also akin to vertigo. You suddenly felt very small, in the great expanse of the world, floating in the ocean of the universe…

You took a deep breath to ground yourself; it helped when Zenyatta gently placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Are you alright, my friend?”

“Yeah, I just...I guess I never thought about all this stuff before,” You said, “At least, never like this; I just...knew I would die, someday, but after…”

“It is a large concept to try and think of,” He admitted, “Dwelling on it does as much harm as good, even to those with a healthy perspective on it.”

You snorted, “Is that your way of admitting you don’t like to think about death, either?”

“Yes, though as an omnic, I certainly have less to worry about than most,” He chuckled.

Perhaps it was luck that a street fair had taken up the side streets that day; you weren’t keen on surrounding yourself with so many people, but hearing the music and hearing the babble of countless people. That was a form of nostalgia you understood.

After-parties for dance recitals and competitions were nearly as fun as the actual dancing itself. Liquor, games, the glamour, the people--it could be so overwhelming, but at the same time you couldn’t say you had been to an after party you hated. It was part of the culture, as much a part of dance as the costumes and the choreography.

You found yourself swaying your hips to the tempo of the music, your feet trying to follow with clumsy steps. You didn’t feel self-conscious as you fell out of step or beat; considering how long it had been since you had properly danced, you were happy to feel the muscle memory story to kick; your body twirled on the sidewalk and you held your backpack so you wouldn’t accidently hit Zenyatta.

The omnic simply turned his head to observe your new form of self-entertainment, something that he marveled at for a few moments silently. Dancing was something he had always seen humans do, and yet omnics often didn’t partake in the practice of it. A shame, if Zenyatta could comment on it, but it was still an art he enjoyed viewing.

Your eyes met his and you felt your smile widen before you reached out and gently took his wrist before you twirled in front of him. His other hand found yours and he let you lead him through a few spins. His legs came down, almost touching the ground, but he doubted he could keep up if he actually tried to land on the ground just then. His body moved with yours and tried to imitate and he heard both of you laugh in a moment of silly glee as you danced together.

The moment ended when you winced and began to favor your right leg.

“Are you alright?” Zenyatta studied your movements.

You waved him off and offered him a small smile, “Sorry, no-I mean, I’m fine, this is just an old injury…”

After a moment, you blinked; Zenyatta was holding out one of the strange metal orbs that were often around his neck. You knew it wasn’t a necklace--you could see they weren’t connected and simply floated around his neck. It was a neat trick (along with his hovering), but you raised an eyebrow now.

“Zen, what-”

“Please,” He urged, “You simply need to hold it.”

A part of you threatened to revolt if you didn’t make a joke about Zenyatta’s metal balls, but you managed to bite your tongue and reached out to take the orb. Instantly, you felt warmth travel up your arms, down and to one side of your body as it headed for the sharp pain in your hip and above your knee. The warmth soothed the pain and within moments, you could put your weight onto your leg again.

“Wow...what was that?” You held the metal orb between your hands, your eyes held it with a hard stare as if you could have all it's answers if you were able to find the words cut into the metal casing. 

“Harmony, condensed into a healing energy,” Zenyatta explained.

“Harmony? Like...getting along with everyone and stuff?” You raised an eyebrow at him.

He chuckled, “Hmm...perhaps it would be easier if I used the phrase yin and yang?”

You nodded, “I know that one; it's about balance, right?”

“It is often used to visualize balance, yes,” He nodded, “But it is _what_ is being balanced that are what I am speaking of. Harmony and discord, light and dark, love and apathy, life and death.”

You looked down at the orb in your hand and the question was out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

“So is there an orb that gives out the discord?”

Zenyatta nodded, “Yes, but I do not like to use such a thing if it can be helped.”

You stared at the orb a little longer before you reached out to hand it back to the omnic, “Thank you, Zenyatta; my leg hasn’t felt like this since before my injury.”

He seemed happy with your smile and the orb gently lifted from your hands on it's own to return to its place around his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some cute platonic fluff for Reader and Zen, because I love them both :D
> 
> As for next chapter, all I'll say is....PREPARE YOURSELVES (no, not for Roadhog lol)
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	29. A Paradise, Lost

The moment was over as quickly as it started and it ended with a scream.

Both you and Zenyatta looked down the road toward the growing panic. The crowd from the street fair surged around you both, and you swallowed loudly when you recognized the smell of ozone from some sort of energy bullet--likely a drone’s.

Zenyatta managed to stop someone long enough to ask, “What has happened?”

The man panted and glanced between you and Zenyatta, “Some security drone went crazy and started firing into the crowd; a couple others looked like they were starting the same way…”

He was gone before he even stopped talking and you found yourself staring at Zenyatta, while his own face slowly turned to face you.

“I must go and see if I can help,” Zenyatta said.

Before he could continue, you immediately said, “I’m going with you.”

The crowd was hard to push through, even with Zenyatta floating in front of you. People were scared and sirens could be heard a ways off. The two of you turned down a street and got a small break in the crowd. The drones were down the street and rolled on two wheels with an approximation of a human on top, energy weapons sticking from their chests.

“WARNING: TARGETING DATA MISSING. WARNING; TARGETING DATA MISSING,” The drones didn’t speak as one, but all of them overlapped until it was nearly a quiet roar of noise.

A few bodies were laid over each other and blown into walls--another person was shot as the two of you finally managed to break free from the crowd. The drones moved erratically and you swallowed. So much death and destruction...because of a virus? You didn’t know enough about drones or computer programming to know if it was even possible, but you didn’t worry about it now. What you worried about was Zenyatta floating forward.

You opened your mouth--wanting to warn him, or call him back--but your jaw dropped instead.

Zenyatta’s arms moved outward in a circle and his orbs followed their movements, spreading out and circling his body as he prepared to engage with the drones. His first movement--a hard thrust of his right hand--sent a glowing yellow orb toward a person still trying to limp away from the chaos; the man’s gait improved almost immediately and he was soon sprinting away. Zenyatta’s second movement was another hard thrust, this time with his left hand. An orb glowing purple flew forward and nearly dashed itself against one of the drones.

Were your eyes playing tricks or was the purple orb now feeding some sort of darker energy into the drone?

You swallowed and saw another drone turn to bear down on Zenyatta and you threw your hand out without thought; you felt your control wash over the drone and it stuttered to a stop just before it's guns began to warm up to fire. Zenyatta turned and threw three of his orbs at the drone, making the robot explode. You felt a pinch in the back of your head and something like a painful static shock over your whole body; you cried out in pain and stumbled to one side.

Zenyatta froze and almost as if he could see it, felt the strange energy withdraw from the drone and back into your body. It was as if you had thrown a piece of yourself and his destruction of the drone and thrown it back. He automatically sent a golden Harmony orb toward your hunched over form.

“My friend,” He started, but you quickly waved him off.

“After--catch me after we deal with the drones,” You turned and quickly two over two more drones, turning them against the other drones that were quickly converging on this street; there were so many...what sort of virus was this?

Zenyatta kept his inner eye open to sense which drones you had control of, so he wouldn’t accidentally harm you again. He noticed the number of drones as well; this hardly seemed like an accidently error in programming--this felt deliberate, and more than that, malicious.

It certainly had an unmistakable ‘Talon’ calling card about it.

The drones finally started to slow and soon, none stood except for the two that you currently were in control of; Zenyatta watched you as he felt you rip yourself away. The drones sparked and exploded, leaving him to watch you. You panted and rubbed your face; you were paler, Zenyatta noted, and your knees shook as if they would fail you.

The sirens were loud enough to draw both of your attentions and without another word, you both ran away from the sound, down a side street and then another, trying to avoid any confrontation with the local authorities.

At some point, the both of you slowed enough for Zenyatta to begin to hover again--it had been a sight, watching his body run when his preferred method of travel was his strange ability to sit on air. Despite the previous moments of adrenaline and battle, the two of you walked calmly through the city. This far away from the attack, life went on as normal. News hadn’t reached here yet and it would be so easy to pretend that the last 15 minutes of their lives never happened.

Then Zenyatta asked, “My friend, how long have you been able to do that?”

 

You couldn’t read his motionless faceplate, and his tone was the same even keel that always ruled his voice. Was he upset? Was he scared? Did you scare him? Did you just lose all trust from him? How could this-

Zenyatta said your name and you sucked in a quiet breath before answering.

“Only for the past couple months…” You said, “I...It's a new development.”

There was only a short pause before Zenyatta spoke again, “That is what you are running from.”

.You swallowed and nodded, your eyes dropping to the sidewalk in front of you.

“That metal plate on the back of your head-”

“I’ll,” You cut him off; it would be less painful to just tell him everything in one go, rather than force him to ask questions and pry, “I’ll tell you the whole story, just...can’ we get away from here, first?”

~*~

Winston studied the scrolling text on the bottom of three separate news channels; the actual news anchors were muted, but what they were saying held little interest for the simian. The scrolling text, however…

“Have you found anything, Winston?” McCree’s voice came out of the darkness behind the translucent screen. Winston didn’t jump--he had smelled the man’s cigar long before the cowboy had actually spoken.

“Perhaps,” Winston answered, his fingers moving forward to touch the streen, “Athena, can you give a full view of those rolling stories?”

“Of course, Winston,” Athena answered, her voice crisp in the darkness of the command center, “Enlarging…”

“Hacked drones?” McCree raised an eyebrow and stepped around the screens, “I thought Ruesso said the little lady didn’t-”

“No, no, look at the third one,” Winston waved eagerly.

_Two mysterious heroes vanish after diverting Disaster caused by hacked drones...4 dead, none injured._

McCree still wasn’t following and leaned against the table to stare blankly at Winston, chewing patiently on his cigar. Winston took a moment to catch on.

“What?” Winston glanced between the headlines and McCree before it dawned on him, “Sorry--I’ve been following the news for anything related to drones or omnics acting strangely; I figure if Talon is trying to get her back as hard as they can, then it stands to reason something might show up.”

“Right, right, all angles,” McCree nodded, looking again at the three news snippets with new eyes, “Our little darling can interfere with drones and omnics--stands to reason it might catch a little attention.”

Winston nodded, “I noticed a sudden rash of ‘hacked’ drones popping up everywhere across Europe-” At this, he pulled up more and more articles, each dated within the last week, “And apparently, experts are assuming the virus targeted wifi engaged drones. The scale of this is massive.”

“That sounds like Sombra,” McCree grumbled and crossed his arms, “That’s a woman I wouldn’t mind shakin’ some sense into.”

“Either way, it's important to focus on the fact that I think I’ve located her based on this data,” Winston straightened his glasses, “And if I could make a guess, we should hurry; no doubt Talon already knows what we know.”

“Then let’s ride,” McCree straightened up, “Who should I wake up?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	30. Verily

“Oi, Roadie,” Junkrat talked loudly around the crunch of chips he was shoving into his mouth, “Why are we goin ta Burgers...Burges, anyway?”

Roadhog grunted and said, “News pointed this way.”

“Right, right,” Junkrat licked his fingers, ignoring the taste of soot from his them, “So, we finally get a lead and race off.”

It wasn’t the first time--or last--that Jamison forgot what exactly they were doing; he was absent-minded as a rule, but his radiation addled mind couldn’t focus on too many details. He remembered that they were after the woman who could control tinheads and he could remember that they were doing it to impress Jack Morrison, but after that, he was usually just along for the ride.

Roadhog wondered if it was that trek into the omnic cores at the center of the radiation that scrambled his brains, or if he had already been broken by the harsh Outback and that was why he went in the first place. In the end, it didn’t really matter. Roadhog and Junkrat were partners and more than that, they were friends. That meant a lot to an old bloke like Roadhog.

“We’re almost there,” Roadhog grunted after a moment of silence.

“Right, Bruges for the sheila,” Junkrat nodded in response.

~*~

Ana Amari typed quickly into the small computer on her wrist. Jack had been sending her coded messages for 6 weeks now and she was losing her patience. He hardly seemed the put together soldier she remembered, even from their run in 4 months ago. It was like he was buckling under his resumed leadership responsibilities for Overwatch and that worried Ana. Not just for the old soldier’s sake, either. If Jack buckled, there weren’t many who could step up to fill that void, herself included.

Jack Morrison was a natural leader--he cared about those under his command, he viewed them as family and more than that, he respected their abilities and what they brought to the organization. At least, that was the Jack from 10 years ago.

From the secret messages passed between her and Winston, it seemed Jack had changed a lot in his time as a vigilante. He no longer trusted easily, even those he knew well; add to that, he was harder on those who had answered the recall and seemed to be in a frenzy. Whatever was happening back at the Gibraltar Base, it certainly needed a steadying hand. Ana realized she had been avoiding the day where she would hang up her cloak as Shrike and return to Overwatch officially. She knew why she was avoiding it, too.

Fareeha.

Her daughter hadn’t taken the news of Ana being alive very well, according to both Jack and Winston. Not that Ana blamed her; Fareeha had still been young when Overwatch had finally declared her from missing in action, to presumed dead. The loss was surely devastating, and it was why she delayed her arrival now. There was surely a period of time needed to process being told your deceased mother was actually alive all this time.

Ana was old enough to know a small part of her was also being selfish; she was terrified that Fareeha would hate her forever and refuse to forgive her. If it came to that, Ana would respect her daughter’s wishes and excuse herself from the rest of Fareeha’s life; but Ana dreaded that and wanted to put it off as long as possible.

For now, she focused on what she needed to be doing. Namely, tracking you. The trail had been cold when she picked it up along the coast of France. You had landed in a port town and gathered up supplies--it was _which_ supplies you had picked up that made her realize your path. From there, she had moved quickly, trying to pick up your trail as she flew between cities, hoping to end up in the same city as you.

Bruges was her lucky break.

The news had plastered the blurry image of a store’s security footage across a few different social media pages and it was from these pictures that Ana thought she had hit her stroke of luck. If nothing else, she had heard of the traveling omnic-monk, Zenyatta and knew it should be easy enough to confirm her suspicions.

“Let us meet face to face, then,” Ana slipped her mask on and pulled up her hood.

~*~

Akande’s form filled the plush chair that face outward toward the large picture window. The lights of Bruges danced on the water and he might have admired it, if his thoughts weren’t already on something bigger, more important. They had thrown out their bait and reel into different parts of Europe, hoping such a wide net would catch you, or at the very least tell them where you were. Akande hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. He had prepped a part of himself to withstand the waiting and he had hardened his hull.

At the end of the day, it didn’t really matter. What mattered now was executing the perfect plan that would have you loyal and on his side.

“You called?” Sombra suddenly appeared near his chair, almost as if she melted from the aether.

“You and Amelie are ready for tomorrow?”

“Of course; the girl’s as good as cornered,” Sombra giggled, shrugging her shoulders, “The chicka has no idea we even know where she is.”

“Good, now get out,” Akande stood from his chair.

“Aye aye,” Sombra walked with an eternal bounce in her step and Akande eyed her back as she left.

Akande made a habit of never trusting anyone, and it had kept him alive and in charge. Sombra in particular was hard to pin down and had never hidden her ulterior motives. The large man had even guessed that she had played a bigger role in helping Katya Volskaya escape with her life. Not that Akande minded; he had been in prison when Volskaya had been ordered for assassination. The order had come from a now deceased leader of Talon and Akande was glad to be rid of him--and even more glad he had been able to do the deed himself.

That didn’t change the fact that Sombra was a loose gun, one that could cause Talon trouble. And with her continual search for the ‘global’ conspiracy that occupied all of her free time...While Akande did believe that a global conspiracy likely was real and probably involved plenty of world leaders, to Talon it didn’t matter. Their purpose was to cause conflict, to push humanity forward in it's evolution.

He would deal with the repercussions of his thoughts later. For now, he had to focus; dawn was breaking and their plan would begin the moment you and that tin monk decided to try and leave.

It was almost time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small intermittent chapter just to build tension and to move pieces around the board :D
> 
> I was trying to keep my chapter length consistant, which is why I think the pacing slows down in this chapter, so sorry about that :/ That being said, I can tell you it gets better because I've thrown out a defined chapter length where I am currently, so that should keep chapters like this to a bare minimum haha.
> 
> I hope you guys are still enjoying this story! I haven't heard from commenters in a little bit (def my fault cause I"ve been busy trying to plot and haven't been able to reply normally, sorry!!).
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


	31. Each Chapter, A Letter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ROADHOG AND READER FINALLY MEET!!
> 
> ...
> 
> Well, sort of.

There was no way you could have known that the peaceful trial you had been walking with Zenyatta was over when you woke up that day. There wasn’t any way you could have prepared yourself for the pain and terror you would feel only an hour later.

You woke up and prepared to leave Bruges; you had stayed too long and knew you should start heading south or you’d be too far north for a comfortable and safe winter. A part of you wondered how far Zenyatta planned to follow you; you surprised yourself when you realized that you hoped he would stay a little longer. Being on the run from Talon was lonely; you packed up and moved often, you sang for money or begged for it. Zenyatta was travelling in order to make deep personal connections with humans, in the hope of building trust and friendship.

The two of you traveling together had been fun, and enlightening; Zenyatta had given you hope that you maybe weren’t as broken as you often thought of yourself.

The two of you prepared to leave quickly and set off as the light of day began to pour over the houses. It was a watery, weak light that left the world feeling tired and gray, but birds were still singing, even as they prepared themselves for the flight southward.

There was no one else up at this point, which you thought a little strange--it was a port town, after all. Still, you pressed onward, hoping for a breath of fresh air once you put this city behind you.

Zenyatta and you both froze when you turned a corner and saw wall of drones hovering to block passage through. You swallowed and took a step back. Your stomach started to twist into a knot when you turned and saw another wall of drones pulling into place behind you, cutting off your escape route.

You opened your mouth to try and say something--anything--to Zenyatta, when another voice drew both of your attentions to an alleyway that was now blocked off by a woman dressed in bright purple and black.

“Hola,” She greeted almost cheerfully, “Care to surrender now or should I tear apart your metal friend to convince you?”

Zenyatta already looked ready for a fight, “You will not harm either one of us; leave and go in peace and we shall do the same.”

“Que broma; just surrender already,” She laughed and her form melted away, as if she never existed in the first place.

“Zen-”

Before you could even finish his name, the drones were firing on you both; without thinking, you reached out to pull Zenyatta away from the line of fire, but the woman in purple appeared behind him and reached out to throw him over her shoulder and away from you.

Her playful dark eyes taunted you before she said, “Be careful of the Widowmaker….Boop!”

As she said ‘boop’, the streetlight overhead shattered and you let out a cry before you dove behind a nearby car. Widowmaker...wasn’t that the name of someone from Talon? So who was the woman in purple? You couldn’t register much more as one of the tires of the car suddenly blew and you knew it was another bullet.

You had to move; you had to find Zenyatta. You had to get away and hope they wouldn’t find you again.

You screamed and ducked as another shot rang off and nearly missed your head. You didn’t want to move or even twitch in case the sniper-- _Windowmaker, put a name to your fear_ \--but you knew Zenyatta was still out in the open-

A quick glance over your cover showed that Zenyatta was simply...gone. Nowhere to be seen. At least you didn’t see his body on the ground, but where did he go? Was he safe? What had that woman in purple done to him?

The drones still blocked off either side of the street, but were no longer opening fire. Had they just been aiming for Zenyatta, then? You felt panic start to rise in your chest. You dropped your head quickly, your heart hammering in your chest painfully; there was no shot, but your whole body was tense with the idea that at any moment, Widowmaker would-

“This way!”

The voice was deep and had a tilt to his accent; your head spun as you tried to locate the owner of the voice. He was inside of a shop just next to the car you had managed to dive behind. His dark skin was matched in color by the shirt he wore and his dark eyes glittered in the sunlight. You swallowed and closed your eyes. The shop offered more cover and a possible escape if it had a back door; but diving into the doorway would leave you vulnerable for too long…You had to try.

All you could hear was your own heartbeat as you shifted your stance and prepared to dive through the door. You took a breath and jumped.

A burning pain bloomed on your thigh and you stumbled into the store and quickly crawled away from the windows, scrambling for cover. You spared a glanced down and hissed with you saw the wet stain on your dark pants and the tear through the fabric. Tears burned your eyes; you’d be lucky if you could put any weight on it, let alone get away from the sniper...and then there was that woman in purple. Her eyes had been fierce and haunting; more than that, you could just feel like all she was doing was taunting you--she could have killed you at any time and yet here you were...on borrowed time.

You swallowed and forced yourself to stand; and you were right, you couldn’t even put any weight on it. A curse left your mouth and you threw your hand out, trying to catch yourself. A large hand surrounded yours and you fell against a hard chest. Akande held you up easily--you barely reached his shoulder in height.

“Let me help you,” He said patiently, still holding your hand after you had managed to get your balance with a nearby shelf.

You tried to pull your hand away, but his grip tightened; you glanced toward the back of the store, “Let go, I have to get out of here-”

“I’ll help,” He said again and he tugged on you, making you follow him toward the back of the store, even as you limped and whimpered in pain.

“Stop, stop!” You finally freed your hand and it immediately flew down toward your leg while the other held tightly to the wall near you, “What are you doing? Who are you?”

You glanced back toward the front of the shop, but you saw no sign of either attacker--the anxiety from wondering just where they went still left your heart hammering.

“My name is Akande,” He said, his tone shifting a little, “I’m here to help you.”

“Help me?” You swallowed, “What are you talking about?”

“I can keep you safe from Talon.”

Your head started to spin; just what was this? He just walked up to you and started saying all this? Just who was he?

“I don’t know what you know,” You started to say before you began to stumble backwards, “But….just stay away!”

As if you had flipped a switch, Akande’s face hardened. You saw his fists clenched tightly. Anger filled his chest and you stumbled back again when he took a step forward. His voice now had an edge to it and you found yourself preferring the sickly sweet put-on voice he had before.

“Aren’t you stubborn?” He said, his hand reaching out toward you.

You pulled back and threw a display of cold medicines at his feet before you turned and quickly dodged toward the front of the store again; you forced yourself to ignore the pain that was now tearing up your right side. You heard Akande curse behind you, and you pushed yourself harder. You’d rather take your chances with the sniper than with the larger man behind you.

The door was still standing open and you upended another display behind you, hoping to throw the man off, even for just a little bit longer. If you could just find Zenyatta, or maybe the police would finally show up-

You hissed and threw yourself to the side; a bullet grazed your arm and you felt tears burning your eyes again. This was it; this was where you either died or were taken back. A sniper’s bullet or the crazed man behind you.

“Let ‘er RIP!”

The echoing yell made your head shoot up, and you frantically searched for the growing sound of a small engine that was moving fast. You finally saw something dart out from behind a corner; it was a tire with spikes that caught the wall of the building it was driving next to and began to climb up the wall before it leapt up and over the street.

Another quick movement caught your eye and you saw a woman leap from a balcony where she had been hiding in your peripheral; she was attempting to flee the tire, but it suddenly blew up, making you scream and the woman was blown away, her tether snapping in the heat and fire.

“Ova’ there, Roadie!” A shrill voice demanded and you looked up in time to see an overly huge man grunt in response as he lumbered toward you.

You had fallen to the ground when you were seeking cover from Windowmaker and now you tried to find your footing again. Now you had _two more_ strange characters after you, from who knows what organization and with some mystery intent that involved you. You felt your tears of panic turn into tears of frustration as you threw yourself away from the large man.

He was certainly a person worth some degree of fear; he was easily head and shoulders above the average person; his silver hair was pulled back into a ponytail while his face was covered by a curiously shaped gas-mask that gave you the impression of a pig. His chest and large, round belly were bare and adorned with faded tattoos that drew the eye.

It was a moment that felt stopped in time. You and the large man stared at one another and you knew that life was suddenly going to change for you.

Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, I took a long HIatus, haha...
> 
> I don't have much explanation, other than I'm a people person and I love talking to readers (legit, I literally _made a tumblr_ just as a way so that readers could contact me, since it's not really all that easy here on AO3. When people don't talk to me, I just sort of....assume no one likes it.
> 
> Bad of me? Probably. Likely to change anytime soon? Probably not.
> 
> Either way, I still have like, 7 or so chapters ahead of this one, and I'll just go ahead and post them all when I get a chance (maybe a chapter a day, maybe all of them today, I haven't decided).
> 
> If no one comments or chats with me, I'll probably go back on Hiatus; and it not a threat or anything! No one is _required_ to talk to me. I'll eventually get back to this story when I have some free time and a little more motivation.
> 
> Love you, darlings~
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My asks and messages are always open!


	32. Be Prepared

“Back off, junker-trash,” Akande was standing in the door of the shop, and drew himself up to his full height while facing down the junkers.

Roadhog stopped his pursuit of you and turned to face Akande, a rumble in his chest resembling a growl filled the air. He drew up his large gun, and pointed it directly at Akande’s chest. 

“Push off! That there’s our mission!” The smaller, thinner man hyped from further down the street.

Akande turned his head in your direction, but looked behind you, “Take her now, Sombra.”

“Alright, alright already.”

 

You spun as quickly as you could, but felt the woman’s firm grip on your shoulder before you actually saw her face. Then the world was moving around you and you felt nausea build in your stomach. When you finally got your bearings, you saw that you were further down the street and standing next to a woman with blue skin and long hair pulled back into a cascading ponytail. There were burns on her skin, but this woman--you saw her sniper rifle and realized this must be Widowmaker--didn’t seem to pay them any mind.

Widowmaker held your attention for a few long moments; she just looked so familiar, like someone whose face you had seen many times, but in passing...

“Doomfist is impatient,” Widowmaker’s french accent almost cooed her words.

“Sin mierda, what else is new?” Sombra rolled her eyes and held your shirt firmly, even as you tried to pull away, “Stop struggling or Widow’ll put another-”

Before she could finish her sentence, a bullet grazed her forearm and left her cursing as an acrid purple cloud rose from her wound; before anyone else could move, you felt something impact your leg and despite your initial heart-stopping moment of expecting more pain, you realized that warmth was starting to radiate from the impact instead.

You glanced down and saw your wound closing itself. It was a relief that you knew you wouldn’t bleed out, but the other two women were already on alert.

“Another sniper, how sloppy,” Widowmaker cursed, ducking quickly behind a payphone booth. Sombra followed suit and ducked down behind a car, but since she had let go of you, you simply leaned heavily against the wall you were left against.

“You deal with dome-head, Roadie! I’ll get the sheila,” The skinny man from before was closing in fast, if the sound of his voice was any indicator.

Widowmaker made a face and reached toward her wrist to replace the snapped end of her cable with a new hook.

“No te atrevas, you better not be thinking of leaving me to deal with that austrailian ass-”

Before Sombra could even finish, Widowmaker was already shooting her hook up to another building and used the momentum to fly toward another roof. Sombra cursed in spanish and glared up at you.

“You are _so_ not worth this,” She grumbled and tried to stand again, only for the new mysterious sniper to ping a bullet off the hood of the car near where Sombra’s head would have come up.

You didn’t need to be told you had an opening for you to take it. The street here was clear of drones and you could hear the cascading explosions of said drones from around the corner. The skinny man must be coming from that way. Instead, you turned and limped up the street; the pain in your leg told you that despite the wound closing, the bullet was still lodged firmly inside of you. You shooed away all the thoughts about how _convenient_ it was that Widowmaker had shot your previously-injured right leg…

You heard gunfire--whether it was from the large man back at the store, or the two snipers that were now out of sight, you weren’t sure--but you pressed on, hurrying down the street.

Another explosion rang out behind you, but when you turned to glance back, all you saw was the aftermath. A car was missing a door and a storefront glass was blown inward; as smoke cleared, you saw the leftover pieces of whatever device had caused the explosion and you noticed that Sombra was now gone, nowhere to be found.

You turned to hurry on, but suddenly a man--the thin man from before, you noted--dropped onto the ground in front of you and stumbled so he could keep his footing. You nearly lost your own, since you had to come to a screeching halt in order to keep yourself from bowling him over.

“There y’are, sheila,” Junkrat sniffed and wiped his nose; he smeared gunpowder and dirt across his face without seeming to care, “Roight, let’s get back to Roadie.”

He reached for you and you limped backwards clumsily, “N-No! Stay away from me!”

Junkrat raised an eyebrow, “Jus’ what’re ya on about? Ah, I getcha, I getcha; it's the bombs!”

Your eyebrows came together; he was so...carefree. He didn’t seem to understand that he was the source of your fear, not because of his bombs (though, you were definitely eyeing them now that he had motioned to them on his person) but because he was an unknown stranger trying to take you. You continued to back away, even as the man continued to talk.

“I gots a way with me bombs, see?” Junkrat puffed his chest out as far as he could and put his hands on his hips, “There ain’t a bomb ol’ Junkrat can’t figure or use!”

You continued to hear the intermittent sound of gunfire and realized it must belong to the two snipers, so where was the gunfire from-

As if to answer your unfinished thought, your back suddenly bumped into something firm and warm. You jumped and tried to spin around, but your leg gave out. You would have hit the ground, and you braced yourself for it, but Roadhog’s hand shot out and wrapped around your upper arm to keep you upright.

Your free hand landed on his stomach as you steadied yourself; your eyes moved down to his hand on your arm and you swallowed. It was nearly big enough to encase the whole of your bicep and left your knees feeling weak.

“Oi, Roadie! Don’t bruise the merchandise!” Junkrat ordered shrilly.

Roadhog ignored the smaller man and without any decorum, you were suddenly over Roadhog’s shoulder; you yelped and your hands pressed into his back, trying to stop the feeling that you were going to pitch over his back and end up on the ground.

“Let go!” Your voice suddenly found itself again, “Put me down!”

“Aw, don’ be that way, sheila,” Junkrat fell into step behind the larger man, “We’re the good guys! We’re goin’ legit an’ everythin’!”

Going legit? Did that mean they used to be criminals? Just who were the good guys anyway?

“Shut up,” Roadhog rumbled beneath you and you swallowed as you felt his voice vibrate through his body.

“Oi! Who’s payin’ who, Roadie??” Junkrat limped quickly to walk next to the larger man and began talking fast enough to make your head spin; you just wanted this rollercoaster to be over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My asks and messages are always open!


	33. Each Letter, A Thought Revealed

Ana reloaded easily, her eyes scanning for slight movement as she ducked along a balcony and leapt up toward another one. The other sniper was Amelie Lacroix and despite feeling like she owed the younger woman a scar or missing eye, Ana was more keen on trying to drive Talon away--at least until those two criminals could get a little farther away.

They were recognizable only because of the havoc they tended to cause wherever they went, which usually made crime spike in whatever area they happened to visit. Ana wasn’t sure what they were trying to do, kidnapping you, but she also knew they wouldn’t be hard for someone like her to track, especially since they’d likely be hiding from Talon more specifically. For now, she just had to survive and cause a diversion.

She peaked from her place and saw the slight movement of something on the top of a roof nearby. Ana didn’t move, so she didn’t draw attention. Her gun was drawn up slowly and she leaned into the scope.

Bingo: Amelie Lacroix, with her own scope up and scanning for a target…

Why was she so focused on the street below?

Ana’s own scope swung down and she pressed her lips together. Jack’s bright blonde hair was always eye catching on the field, but now that it had turned silver with age, it was nearly impossible to ignore--especially for a sniper.

“Jack, duck your head.”

Ana spoke into the small communicator attached to the choker around her neck and Jack didn’t question why she said it or how she knew to say it--she watched the seasoned soldier duck around a corner. More movement down below told Ana that Jack had a team with him.

“Any intel for us, Ana?”

“Doomfist, Sombra and Widowmaker,” Ana listed quickly as she turned her scope back to Amelie and cursing when she realized Amelia had already moved and was out of sight again.

“2 unknowns took the target; I’m going radio silent in case Sombra has hacked the radio frequencies,” Ana continued before she turned off her communicator and quickly leapt over to a nearby roof so she could change her vantage again.

Jack cursed and tried to hail Ana again. Two unknowns? It could be a new threat, or it could be the junkers and Jack wasn’t sure either piece of information would stop Ana at this point anyway. Instead, he switched frequencies and spoke to the team he had with him.

“McCree, you and I are going hunting to help Ana with Widowmaker,” Jack said, leaning out of his hiding place to check his surroundings, “Come to my location; Mei, you and-”

Fareeha’s voice cut over his as she bit, “I’m coming with you, Soldier.”

“Fall in line,” Jack bit, his eyes scanning for movement or the glint of a scope.

“Mei, Genji and I can search for the target on our own,” Angela’s voice came suddenly over the radio.

Genji cut in as well, “My master has contacted me as well; we will meet with him while we continue our search.”

Jack sighed and refrained from rubbing his face, “...Fine; McCree, Pharah, get over here so we can flush Widowmaker out.”

“Soldier,” Angela’s voice came again as the chatter died down, “Don’t forget what Shrike said.”

“I know,” Jack gripped his gun tighter.

If it was true that Widowmaker was Amelie Lacroix, then it would change this encounter greatly. Gerard had been a loyal Overwatch agent and a close friend. No matter what the rumor was, no matter what the truth was, Jack owed Gerard that much.

“Move out,” Jack finally said and turned off his radio; Ana was right, if Sombra was as smart as they say, then she probably already hacked the encrypted radio frequency.

~*~

You had just started to feel like your ribs were bruising when Roadhog stopped walking and let you down on the ground--his hand found your back as he steadied you on your feet, but his face was turned toward Junkrat.

“Call Morrison,” Roadhog grunted.

You swallowed as you found your balance and glanced between the two of them, “Who are you people?”

They both ignored you for the moment as Junkrat started up his radio and tried to hail the Overwatch base first.

“Oi, it's Junkrat calling the boss!” Junkrat announced to the static; he paused a moment and tried again, “Don’t ignore me, ya drongo! I’m tryin to getta hold of the monkey!”

The monkey? What did that even mean? Oh no, what if they’re psychotic?

You swallowed and tried to push away from Roadhog; you couldn’t get far, because the hand at your back pulled you closer again, seemingly with little effort.

“Hey! Answer me! Who do you work for?”

Roadhog grunted, “Radio’s are compromised.”

“Well, how do we _un_ compre-whazzat it?” Junkrat leaned toward Roadhog, putting a hand to his chin.

A grumble rolled in Roadhog’s chest and he tried to ignore the feeling of deja vu that assaulted him. When he felt you punch his gut, he turned to look down at you. You froze when his attention was finally settled on you, but you just swallowed and spoke again.

“Who are you? Who do you work for? Talon?”

Even as you said it, you knew that was wrong--Widowmaker was definitely Talon and they had attacked her; so who or what wanted you now?

“As if! Those overpriced mercs wouldn’t know the ass-end of a ‘Roo worth nuthin,” Junkrat snorted and left you to wonder if he actually said anything at all.

“Overwatch,” Roadhog said, completely ignoring Junkrat.

You felt a wave of confusion. Overwatch had been a huge organization that was disbanded by UN’s Petras Act. You had been a teenager when it happened, on your way to a prestigious dancing school in London. You’re mother had been worried about sending you, after everything that had happened at the time, but you wouldn’t be deterred. Dance was your life; you would have cut your feet off before you let your mother talk you out of going.

“I don’t understand,” You said, pressing your hands against his skin again as you tried to pull away.

Roadhog focused on the touch as his mind wandered over the possibilities and what they should do. The radio being blocked was likely Talon’s attempt at keeping them cut off from backup, or a quick escape. That meant they would have to get out of town without being seen in order to have an easy time of it--not that Junkrat would care for the easy way; he probably already had some hair-brained scheme beginning to form in his radiation addled brain.

As if on cue, Junkrat was talking again, “Now, here’s what we’re gunna do-”

You stopped him with a flat, “ _No_. I’m not doing _anything_ ; I won’t let you lock me up! I just want to be left alone!”

Struggling crossed your mind, but you felt the hard press of Roadhog’s hand on your back and knew you would have a time of it.

Junkrat blinked at you for a long moment, his jaw slack and it was obvious he was having a hard time processing what you had just said to him. It never occurred to him that you just _wouldn’t_ cooperate. You wondered if he walked on the slow side or if there was really something wrong. You could almost feel sorry for him, if it wouldn’t have been obvious it didn’t slow him up too much; he was already talking again.

“Oi, no one said nuthin ‘bout lockin’ anyone up,” Junkrat jutted his hip out as he bent over to wave his hands in front of him--he was so animated you leaned away, wary, “Roadie ‘n me, we’d be the firs’ ones they’d lock up what with us bein high class criminals an’ all!”

You had to decipher his accent before you shook your head, “Why would Overwatch hire criminals?”

“Who said anythin’ about us bein criminals? We’re goin’ _legit_ , darl, clean as a virgin’s taint, to be sure.”

“Just...what is _wrong_ with you?” You asked.

Junkrat simply sighed, “Just too much good looks, me thinks; runs in the family.”

The silence that followed was only broken by Roadhog’s grumble and him beginning to move, pulling you along firmly but patiently. They still had to get out of the city and there was no telling when Talon would show up. You still resisted, and tried to turn away from Roadhog’s leading hand.

“You’re not a prisoner,” Roadhog suddenly rumbled, “No more than I am.”

You wondered at that, but his quiet confidence left you nodding slowly despite the wary lump of lead that was heavy in your stomach. Despite that, you stopped resisting and a wave of horrible exhaustion suddenly washed over you--just how long could you really have expected to remain free? Talon or Overwatch...did it really matter?

“And if they _do_ lock me up?” You couldn’t help but ask.

If they did? Roadhog wondered after that. Was that the point of all this? He thought he had heard Morrison say the mission was to keep you out of Talon’s grip, but how were you dangerous? Because you could control rust buckets? Roadhog knew better than most not to underestimate someone, but even as he glanced down at you again, he couldn’t see how you were hardened or dangerous at all. You didn’t even seem up for a real struggle now that you were caught; you just looked tired.

Junkrat cackled, “If ol’ Soldier-boy locks you up, then me ‘n Roadie will keep you company!”

You blinked in surprise and turned to look at him, “What?”

 

“Oi, I don’ like repeatin myself, darl,” Junkrat cackled again, despite his words.

Roadhog rumbled again, but it didn’t sound like he was opposing or agreeing with the smaller man. Instead, he glanced around carefully and pushed both of his charges on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, part of this project has created a bunch of side stories (a sort of 'what happened while the story focused on this' type of thing).
> 
> Anybody interested in those? Its not long and it wouldn't update hardly very often, but its mostly just extra stuff I've written that goes into the SofS timeline that doesn't make it into the fic, or deleted scenes type of thing lol. If I post it, it would probably be where all the smut gets posted as well, since I mostly want to keep this one sex-free for people who don't care about it.
> 
> Thoughts?
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My asks and messages are always open!


	34. Causation and Effect

The city suddenly seemed dead and you were left to wonder if it was the still early hour--had all of that excitement earlier really taken less than 20 minutes? You felt years older and decades more tired--or if you were simply closer to the edge of town. You hated that there were no other people around; more than the comfort of human normalcy, you just wanted to know that your presence in this city didn’t screw everything up. Talon was here and it was likely they’d stay after, and you couldn’t help but feel like they never would have come to this edge of the map if they weren’t looking for you.

You pressed your lips together and looked down. This was a common line of thought for you, a worn trail in your mind; every time you felt tired or down on yourself, your thoughts always forced their way toward the same destination: maybe it would have been better if you never escaped in the first place.

Orisa, sweet and naive, gone. All the displaced people from the cities you had visited where Talon had tried to flush you out. Zenyatta.

More than anyone else, Zenyatta hurt. He had been floating by your side for weeks now. He had shared his way of life with you, even as you held him at arm’s length. He was your friend and had been right by your side at the beginning of this day and now...Now you just saw that woman’s smirking face and every cell in your body was afraid for the worst. He didn’t deserve to cross your unlucky path; he didn’t deserve to get caught up in all of this.

“Jus’ where are we supposed ta go, eh?” Junkrat asked and this wasn’t the first time. Despite his boisterous personality (and his obvious delusion of being in 100% control), Roadhog seemed to be in charge, at least for where the three of you were going at this moment.

“Leaving town,” Roadhog answered shortly, his attention only partially on the two of you as he continued to eye your surroundings.

“Roight, roight,” Junkrat nodded, catching up quickly--or so you thought, “Leaving town and getting the heck back to...where?”

“Overwatch?” You supplied before Roadhog could answer.

“Yes!” Junkrat pointed at you, “That! We’re just a couple a blokes, escortin’ a sheila! Mei’ll be so impressed!”

He let out a dreamy sigh and you raised an eyebrow. For someone who smelled like gunpowder and bad decisions, he certainly seemed completely at ease with whatever situation he found himself in. Junkrat seemed to suffer from what your mother would politely describe as ‘too much tongue and too little sense’ but what your father had called ‘diarrhea of the mouth’. He spoke endlessly of anything and everything that crossed his mind and didn’t seem to care who was listening.

“Who’s Mei?” You couldn’t resist the question as it spilled from your mouth quietly.

Another dreamy sigh left his mouth and he leaned against the building that the three of you were passing and didn’t seem to mind that you and Roadhog kept walking. Of course, he didn’t actually answer your question until he caught up again.

“Mei is the sheila I’m gunna sweep off her feet when I get back to base!” He answered, “Biggest set of tits me ol’ eyes have ever seen; and fiery! For an ice queen.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, until he continued.

“Plus she’s brilliant! Got this nice little gun she made herself,” Junkrat patted the cumbersome thing at his waist, “Jus’ like me; I got to thinkin’ maybe this sheila got sommat that ol’ Junkrat can learn; oooh an’ she likes this drink--boba tea, it's absolute my favorite-”

And the list went on. Every now and again, he’d mention her breasts again, or the curve of her butt, but soon even that was left to the wayside in favor of his obvious worship of this woman. You almost felt like you knew her by the time you got another word in, edgewise.

“So, why do you call her an ice queen? Is she cold or rude or something?” You asked, genuinely curious.

“Oh, naw,” Junkrat chuckled, a sheepish blush taking over his face, “Sheila’s as polite as they come, from what I can tell: a real class act--naw, I call her ‘ice queen’ cause her gun shoots out ice and stuff.”

You blinked and nodded, but the idea of it seemed fantastic and new to you. A gun that shot out ice? You had heard some wild things--especially since you had escaped--a story about a DJ who became a hero for driving out a greedy corporation from his streets using a weapon that controlled sound, Lena ‘Tracer’ Oxton (who was near a celebrity back _before_ you were kidnapped) was seen back at her heroic antics, and then the people you had seen just on your travels. The archer who you saved in New York, Jesse McCree, and Zenyatta…

There were _good_ people in the world, doing what they could in their own small ways.

“I jus’ can’t wait to see me sheila,” Junkrat sighed.

Roadhog grumbled and sounded like he was going to say something, but whatever it was got lost in the sound of glass shattering and the noxious purple smoke that surrounded the three of you. You choked and coughed and threw yourself away from the middle of it, but tripped over something hard and a cry left you when you threw your arm out to catch yourself and landed wrong.

Your wrist throbbed and you could see it swelling already as you rolled onto your back and looked down at it. Tears burned your eyes but you could see the purple smoke dissipating now. All three of you were coughing, and Roadhog, despite his gasmask, had fallen to a knee. Then you saw why.

A syringe was sticking out of his shoulder, it's contents emptied into the large man. You saw Junkrat curse and pull out his own gun--a grenade launcher that housed bright yellow bombs--and aimed up at a cluster of houses. You saw the glint of something--a scope?

Junkrat cried out and you jumped. His shoulder was suddenly a flower of red blood that made him drop his launcher. You screamed, even as you saw more purple smoke bloom from his wound and you tried to push yourself to your feet.

Roadhog was on his feet again and pulled Junkrat and you against his belly before turning his back toward the sniper, shielding you both.

“N-no! You’ll die!” You heard yourself shrieking.

“Hold on, Roadie,” Junkrat winced and dug into Roadhog’s belt; he tossed up a large yellow canister.

Roadhog grunted neary every time he was shot. You felt more tears falling. Roadhog fixed the canister to his mask and you saw him breathe deeply. Junkrat threw a mine out to one side and leapt for it. He launched into the air. Roadhog grabbed you around the waist and you were on his shoulder again.

You could still see the blood and the wounds from the sniper bullets. Even as you watched, they closed before your eyes. You looked up. Junkrat was arcing toward the sniper. His body jerked and you saw him falling, nearly headfirst.

“No!”

Roadhog turned and leapt. You felt sick. A sharp sting hit your side and you reached for it. Stinging pain shocked your system as you pulled out a syringe. Another wave of panic left you wondering: was it the adrenaline leaving or the syringe that left you feeling weak and unable to stay awake?

Darkness flooded you, no matter how hard you tried to fight it.

“Cease fire, CEASE FIRE!” Was the last thing you heard, coming from the radio that was attached to Roadhog’s mask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND THAT'S THE END OF PART 2~!
> 
> So, unless people really don't like the idea of it, I"m going to just keep posting here in the same story (Rather than start a new one to have a continuation). There will be a time when I will create a 'sequel' if you will, because the notes and plans I have have taken me into the three digits in terms of how many chapters I think this fic will end up having.
> 
> But until that time (or when people start complaining that this fic just feels too long as a singular thing haha) I'm just gonna keep adding chapters haha.
> 
> Next chapter should be tomorrow or the day after!!
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My asks and messages are always open!


	35. Overwatch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Part 3: Overwatch

The table was cold beneath you, even though you recognized it as an operating table. The fabric of it felt smooth and metallic, even as you gripped the linen between your fingers. You looked up from your reclined position and felt your throat close.

“You know, you remind me of my granddaughter,” Ruesso waved a knife over your abdomen, as if he were some sort of conductor instead of a surgeon, “I just want to cut your pretty eyes out; it won’t hurt a bit.”

You had a vague awareness of a shelf behind him that was sporting glass jars; you immediately homed in on one where two disembodied eyes floated, staring at you. Your ears began to ring loudly, making your body shudder and tremble. Then, you realized you’re ears weren’t ringing; you were screaming.

“Now, now,” Ruesso clicked his tongue and he passed the knife across the table and you followed it with watery eyes, “There’s no need to cause such a fuss.”

Moira glared down at you with cool indifference before she turned. Your eyes followed her and you blinked rapidly to clear your eyes of tears; it was only then that you saw the second operating table, this one supporting Zenyatta’s still body. You tried to move, but the will was gone from your body. You tried to scream, but your breath was gone.

“Even if you could have saved him, you would have simply been his downfall yourself,” Moira raised the knife above her head and you felt the room thrum with energy, like a living heartbeat in your ears--or was that simply your own heart? The beating shook you and you sat up and reached for Moira.

Too late.

You screamed, but you couldn’t look away. The knife was buried to hilt in Zenyatta’s chest; blood, the color of overripe cherries began to bubble up from the wound. Black oil-like stains began to leak with the blood and Zenyatta’s head turned to look at you, the lights of his ‘eyes’ flickering even as the beating of the room began to slow.

“The Iris holds us all; you and I will meet again,” His lights went out and the room went still.

You rolled off the cot, screaming and gasping for breath; you had no idea where you were or what was going on. Wasn’t Ruesso and Moira still around? Why were you in a holding cell? Where was the operating tables and Zenyatta? Your stomach lurched and you knew you were going to throw up.

“Over there,” A deep grunt only made you look long enough to follow a large finger that pointed you toward a toilet bowl that was situated in the corner. You didn’t even hesitate to throw yourself at it; you nearly tripped on the way, but managed to empty your stomach into the dirty water.

Mako watched your body as you heaved and coughed. Nightmares weren’t anything new to him and Jamison was only able to sleep well because Mako was plenty sure there wasn’t enough clean braincells in his head to from half a thought, let alone a whole nightmare. The junker was a heavy sleeper on top of it. The much smaller man was curled onto another cot against the opposite wall and hadn’t stirred at all when you had been crying out in your sleep.

You must certainly have seen some shit, to be having nightmares like that.

You coughed again and spat into the bowl, trying to rid yourself of the taste of bile and acid. The taste clung, of course, the way it always did. You hated throwing up.

“Where-” You coughed again and you had to swallow hard in order to keep yourself from dry heaving, “Where are we?”

“Overwatch Base, Gibraltar,” Mako answered, crossing his arms again.

You flushed the toilet and closed your eyes to stop yourself from watching the strangely colored contents of your stomach circle slowly before finally disappearing.

“So I guess we’re locked up?” You were slowly bringing yourself back to reality.

That was right; the last thing you remembered was your walk through town with this larger man and his strange, love-sick partner. Then there was the sniper; right?

Mako rumbled in his chest in agreement, but slumped lower on the wall and let his head fall onto his chest. You took that to mean the conversation was over and let your head drop into your hands so you could try to filter away the images that were carved on the inside of your eyelids.

So, in the end, it all meant nothing. You escaped at the cost of Orisa, you abandoned Jesse to his fate back near Chicago, all the people whose lives you disrupted, and Zenyatta, just...gone. All for it to lead you back into a cage.

Tears silently spilled from your cheeks and you paid them little heed as they dripped onto the floor. If Overwatch was anything like Talon, you’d likely be spilling more soon anyway.

~*~

“Jack, that nightmare was a nearly textbook example of PTSD,” Angela crossed her arms, her jaw set.

The window that looked into the holding cell that you now shared with both junkers was, of course, two-way glass and likely looked like a suspicious mirror from your side. Jack stood in front of it and simply watched as your body seemed to go unnaturally still. If it weren’t for the twinkled glimpses of your tears, he might have thought you fell asleep.

“We’re not here to treat her mental illness,” Jack said sternly, crossing his arms.

“Well, what _are_ we here for, then?” Angela didn’t look even a little convinced and Jack had to keep himself from sighing.

He wanted to blame the fact that Overwatch was a ramshackled mess and no one cared about the hierarchy of leadership, but the fact was: Angela had never been shy about opposing Jack’s orders when there were people that needed healing on the line.

At least some things never changed, he thought quietly in an attempt to comfort himself.

Before Jack could answer, the door into the observation room was kicked open and a pissed off McCree strode in, with his own entourage in tow. Jack raised an eyebrow as he took mental attendance just for the sake of wanting to keep track of the new faces and names.

There was Genji’s omnic master, Zenyatta. Then Genji’s brother, Hanzo, stood with his arms crossed a little behind the group; and, just for the hell of it, apparently, McCree, Reinhardt and Lena were there as well. Each of them looked frustrated and determination that made Jack, for the first time, miss the old Overwatch.

At least then, the only questions he ever had to answer was to the UN and its representatives.

“I believe the only person I called was McCree,” Jack grunted, but he could guess what they were all here for.

Zenyatta was the one who answered, “We are all here in support of Overwatch’s new charge; she isn’t the danger you think she is.”

“On toppa that, we can’t just lock her up without talkin to her,” McCree drawled, his eyes moving over to the glass.

Jack wanted to rub his face, but instead, straightened his back, “I’ll take those opinions under advisement, but-”

“But nothin,” McCree clenched his hands into fists, “I didn’t join up again jus ta see ya put a good woman down.”

Jack watched the cowboy--McCree’s southern drawl always got thicker when he was upset or angry--before he glanced over at the others in the room. Reinhardt had his hands on his hips, but he too was looking between the two men, gauging them against each other, likely. His own teeth started to grind together as every military instinct beaten into him cried mutiny and wanted to squash it, here and now.

Instead, he turned away; he looked back into the holding cell were you had finally managed to roll over and try for more sleep. You were dirty, in torn clothes and with patchwork on your wounds, since Angela hadn’t had a real moment to treat you--just the short trip from Bruges to Gibraltar in their carrier.

“Everyone with direct involvement with her can stay,” Jack finally said, “I obviously need to debrief you; we can’t let her go wandering again because of Talon, but we might be able to work something out-”

“You’re not working anything out until I can treat her,” Angela crossed her arms again.

“Alright, alright,” Jack growled, not for the last time wishing he had just ignored Winston’s recall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we come to Part 3. In my notes its the longest part so far because these chapters will include those missions I asked you guys for; plus, we'll see how you guys like my interpretation of everyone's relationships haha
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My asks and messages are always open!


	36. Murder, She Cries

“There you are,” Angela finally leaned her staff against the nearby wall, her healing done.

You still felt sore--especially your right leg, which she had to cut open in order to remove the bullet--but her work was done in moments once she was able to use her staff and fully heal you. It felt weird, mostly because you had a thought that since Angela was using nano machines, that you could-

Well, you didn’t really like that thought.

“Jack will be here soon to ask you questions; don’t let him bully you, he’s just trying to protect the rest of us,” Angela said absently as she cleaned up after herself.

“I dunno, ol’ Jackie-boy seems a little wound up,” Jamie dug in his ear with his pinkie, inspecting the discolored wax that clung to his nail.

“You shouldn’t do that to your ears, Jamison, you’ll get another infection,” Angela didn’t bother to acknowledge the skinny man’s comment about Jack, “Are you both sure you’ll stay? Jack asked me to try and make you leave-”

“We’re stayin til our sheila is free!” Jamie suddenly perked up.

“Your-?” You blinked and turned to look at the two junkers sitting on the cots behind the table that had raised from the floor that you were now sitting at with Angela.

“Hey hey hey hey heyheyhey!” Jamison waved your question away like it was pestering him, “Yer with us now, see? We said we’d do this time together!”

Mako grunted in agreement, though you thought he sounded amused. Angela blinked in quiet surprise and looked from Jamison, to Mako, then to you. You couldn’t hide the small shy smile that accompanied your colored cheeks. From what she could tell, the junkers had only been with you for less than an hour before Ana had ambushed them and in such a short time, she could already see the attachment the junkers had formed on you, and perhaps a little in reverse as well.

Or maybe it was being locked up with you in this small cell for the past 24 hours--they had been criminals before, after all. That thought made Angela smile--she certainly could say that the three of you were already growing on her.

The door opened and Jack’s rough voice suddenly barked, “Angela, you’re dismissed.”

You jumped, but Angela took it in stride and finished packing up her things, “Just remember what I said; you’ll be fine.”

Jack held the door for her politely before he untucked a folder from under his arm and shut the door. He opened the file as he slowly walked over to the table and laid it out in front of you. You glanced at the words printed, but had a little trouble reading upside down--you had never really had to before. He pulled out the top sheet and closed the folder.

You suddenly felt very much like a child sent to the principal’s office, rather than a fugitive caught by Overwatch. Were you even a fugitive? Probably, after all the problems you had caused….

“Aww, don’t let ‘im scare ya, sheila,” Jamie yawned and stretched out on his cot, watching the two of you lazily, “All a dem cop types act like that.”

“Jamison,” Jack warned briefly before he was looking back at you, “So, McCree tells me you’re a bit of a celebrity.”

You blinked slowly, “McCree’s here?”

“Has been for a few weeks,” Jack supplied.

He stared at you over the table, and you shifted uncomfortably before you remembered what he had said.

“I...I’m not a celebrity,” You crossed your arms over your stomach, “Even before all this, I wasn’t that big of a name.”

“‘The Starlight Dancer’ is a pretty big title, I hear,” Jack opposed blandly, obviously not really knowing the subject matter, but trying anyway.

“How did you even know it was me? I couldn’t even whoogle myself,” You said quietly, “It’s like, I dunno, I don’t exist.”

“Sombra is good at wiping public record that way. Internet presence is nearly everyone’s complete identity now,” Jack said, “But she can’t alter a person’s memory. When McCree had your name, all he had to do was make a few calls to the right people.”

You swallowed and looked down at the table. In New York, there hadn’t been anyone you recognized. 5 years was a long time in the dancing circuits--and there was simply no one left who knew you.

“...I thought everyone forgot about me,” You said quietly, “I guess, I mean in a way, they did. They probably just assumed I quietly retired, or, something? After I was injured, I didn’t see much of my dance partners or coaches. They knew it would just make it harder.”

“Make what harder?” Jack leaned forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the table, his fingers crossing lazily.

“My forced retirement,” You cleared your throat and played with the hem of your shirt, “I tore nearly all of my tendons in my knee and did some pretty serious damage to my hip when it dislocated.”

Jack glanced at the folder and remembered there had been a sizable portion about your medical history that he hadn’t had a chance to glance over yet.

“Blimey, how you walkin, darl?” Jamie snorted and leaned up to rest on one elbow, “Sheila must be loaded.”

Mako grunted and watched you look over your shoulder to frown at Jamie.

“I mean, not anymore,” You bit your lip, “The medical bills were outrageous and my chosen career was over. I was trying to start up my own dance studio when I was kidnapped.”

“Do you know anything about what they did to you?” Jack suddenly asked.

“I...Well, I can take control of drones and…” You hesitated, “And other types of programs.”

“And omnics,” Jack added bluntly.

You winced, “Y...yes.”

Since you were facing away, you couldn’t see Jamie suddenly sitting up in interest, his eyes glued to the back of your head. Mako was a little curious, too, but even if he heard it from her own mouth, he made it a rule not to have anything to do with omnics.

“What else do you know?” Jack asked patiently.

“I, I mean, not much in terms of specifics or anything,” You swallowed, “I know that I can exert control and...I don’t like doing it to omnics, it's…”

You looked away while Jack pressed on, “Are you sure you can’t think of anything?”

“No, I told you,” You said, “Why don’t you go find that maniac Ruesso, or Moira? They’d know what happened.”

Jack hesitated before he adjusted himself in his chair, “Ruesso somehow got access to a cyanide pill while he was being held in custody in Nigeria--he’s dead.”

The news made your ears ring; dead? The man who kept cutting you open, forcing pills and tests and the pure agonizing torture for all those years...Ruesso was dead? Your mouth suddenly felt dry and you caught Jack’s gaze.

“He’s?” You stopped and dropped your eyes.

There was a streak of shame crossing over your stomach and it made you feel a little ill; you felt guilty because of how… _relieved_ you were to hear that Ruesso was gone, permanently. Ruesso was dead, and you had escaped him before the end.

“Moira disappeared and we haven’t been able to track where she went,” Jack added, “So, if you could remember anything, it might give us a clue as to what to expect from you.”

A woosh of air rushed to your lungs in a quiet gasp, “You mean other than taking my word on it?”

The edge that had appeared in your tone made Jack hesitate for a moment, before he asked, “If you’re as smart as I think you are, then I can’t trust your intentions.”

You felt like the air in your lungs disappeared and you were left unable to breathe. If he didn’t trust you, then you’d be stuck here, in this cell, or they might move you into an actual prison. You’d be trapped, all over again.

“My intention is to be left _alone_ ,” You said firmly, crossing your arms tightly over your chest, “Talon _kidnapped_ me; I didn’t ask for this!”

Jack’s features hardened, “It wouldn’t be the first time Talon has brainwashed a good person.”

“I’m not brainwashed!”

“Kind of hard to justify what happened with Orisa if you weren’t out of your right mind,” Jack crossed his arms and watched you coolly.

Tears stung your eyes immediately, and your mouth went dry, “O...Orisa was…”

“A tool to get what you wanted,” Jack supplied without hesitating, “An expandable bystander that you could forget as soon as you walked away.”

“I never forgot about her! And she wasn’t a tool!” You blinked through the tears, ignoring a few that fell over your cheeks, “I...I hoped she was a drone! Or some security bot like the others!”

“It’d be pretty obvious she wasn’t when you took over, though, huh? I’ve read the transcripts of the conversation,” Jack waved his hand, “You were gunna do what you wanted.”

“I didn’t want to hurt her!” You stood so fast that Mako had to catch your chair, or take it in the gut, “I didn’t want to kill her! I just….I just wanted to be free! I couldn’t take another day of needles and the pain!”

“Hey, we all know freedom comes at a price; you just chose to make Orisa pay for yours; at least she was just an omnic, imagine if you could-”

“She was alive,” You said, cutting him off with cold certainty.

The only sound was of Jamison sitting up. The two junkers glanced at one another, both with grim expressions. Neither man liked omnics, or drones for that matter. Whatever Jamison thought, Mako really didn’t care if they were ‘alive’ or just machines. He’d killed enough flesh and blood humans that the existential crises of it was null for him. Still, he could hear the thickness of emotion in your throat and your rigid posture as you looked ready to leap across the table at Jack.

“What else could I have been talking to?” You felt your lip begin to tremble between words, “And I kne-I knew I destroyed drones when I detached from. I just...I just…”

You covered your face with one hand and leaned onto the table with the other, “I killed her, I killed her and I ran away; I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just wanted to get away, but she’s dead and it's my fault.”

The floor was cool against you as you sank to the floor, still clutching the edge of the table as you sobbed into your hand.

Jack nearly held his breath at your outburst, his heart thumping in his chest as he witnessed you swing from anger to breaking like a pendulum unable to stop. He couldn’t stop himself from glancing back toward the glass; he could almost feel Angela’s eyes on him. Still, he stood, gathered the folder and walked out. Angela would have burst in otherwise, he was sure--but also to give you some semblance of privacy as you broke down. The junkers were quiet as he left, neither looking at him, though Jack wasn’t entirely sure Mako wasn’t glaring at him from behind the darkened lenses.

Angela had her arms crossed and she looked ready for war when Jack closed the door behind him.

“Mood swings, remorse, along with the nightmares-” Angela started.

Jack held up his hand, “I know what I saw; alright, I’ll approve her for medical evaluation, but I still need to come up with some sort of solution for what to do with her.”

“Fine, it's all i was asking for,” Angela let her hands drop to her sides, “...Jack, you need to sleep; should I get you more pills?”

“No, Angela, no...no more pills,” He sighed and glanced down at the folder in his hands; it might be worth a better look tonight.

Jamison glanced at Mako, nodding toward you discreetly, “um...bloke, I think she’s broken…”

Mako rolled his eyes, “People cry for all sorts of reasons.”

“Well, I know that, Roadie,” Jamie rolled his eyes, “I mean, I dunno what ta do?”

“Ya don’t gotta do anything,” Mako answered.

Jamie didn’t look convinced; his eyes slid back to you and he rocked side to side for a moment, as if trying to decide something. It wasn’t long before he stood straight up, not slouching for once; he looked from Mako to the door and then down to you before he took a few hesitant steps toward your shaking form. He squatted next to you, but glanced at Mako again, maybe looking for encouragement or for the larger man to stop him. When Mako didn’t move, Jamie looked down at you and scratched his cheek.

“Ey, uh...ya shouldn’t worry too much,” Jamie’s voice was stilted, but your sobs slowed as you tried to listen to him, “I mean, they ain’t worth ya tears….righto?”

You tried to wipe your eyes dry, but the tears wouldn’t stop, “I-I’m sorry.” You were trying to apologize for making him uncomfortable, but more tears just appeared.

Jamie panicked and turned to look for help from Mako. The larger man rolled his eyes again. Still, when Jamie glared at him, Mako raised his arms and plucked you from the ground like you were a child and pulled you against his chest and round stomach. You pulled back a little, but he rumbled quietly against you.

“It’s fine.”

It was all the permission you needed to break down again, crying into Mako’s chest while one of his hands pressed into your back comfortingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here's the reason the whole story is called Scraps of Starlight: our dear little reader held a pretty nice title as the 'Starlight Dancer' for a long while :D
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My asks and messages are always open!


	37. Excluded Variables

“Huxley, wake up,” Moira spat, kicking his ankle as he slept on the floor against a wall, “ _Now_.”

The blonde man grunted and rolled over, glaring up blearily through his eyelashes, “You’re an old bitch, you know that?”

“This ‘old bitch’ is more than ready for her hand to slip during the next round of tests if you’re not up and in my lab in the next-” Moira paused to check the delicate watch around her wrist, “2 minutes and 54 seconds.”

Without another word, or to wait for him to respond, Moira turned and walked further down the hallway. Huxley ignored her and sat up, rubbing his face. He had been here for only a few months--ever since you managed to give his entire team the slip--but already he felt years older. So this was what a ‘promotion’ meant in terms of Talon, huh? If the experiments succeeded, he’d be up at the Main table with the big dogs.

If it didn’t, he’d be dead.

He managed to get to his feet, but didn’t bother to straighten out the sweat pants or gown that he wore constantly now. His energy was devoted to the next step, and the step after that

_Just think about tomorrow; that’s all that matters._

Huxley’s pace faltered and his hand reached out for the wall, as if he was worried about his balance. That was a voice from that past that he hadn’t heard in a while. Tomorrow, huh?

Tomorrow he’d likely still be in this damned facility, where he and Moira had been figuratively shoved into a corner and out of the way. It was on Maximilien’s orders, but Huxley was much less the flight risk. He wanted to be here, after all.

Ah, speak of the devil.

As Hunxley entered the main lab, he saw Moira stiffly greeting the omnic businessman and exchanging pleasantries. Huxley didn’t even bother with it as he moved closer and sank onto a metal stool near the counter they were talking behind.

“Ah, Mr. Huxley,” Maximilien greeted, “Moira was just telling me how your body was handing the experiments.”

“Too slowly,” Huxley grumbled, reaching across the counter to steal an empty beaker so he could fill it with water from a nearby tap, “I think she’s dragging it out cause she’s a sadistic top.”

“Don’t give me any ideas,” Moira replied blandly, her fire and venom from earlier missing, “Maximilien and I were just discussing the merits of speeding along the process.”

Huxley sipped his water, looking back and forth between Moira and the omnic for a few minutes while he rolled Moira’s words over in his mind. Were they asking his opinion? Was this a test? He knew better than to trust either one of them, but Maximilien was completely unreadable and it unnerved the ex-soldier.

“I’m here for the ride,” Huxley finally said, putting his cup down, “Besides, I thought ‘assets’ didn’t get a say.”

Maximilien chuckled, “You’ve been a loyal soldier and this is a promotion, remember?”

Moira looked away, and seemed like she wanted to roll her eyes; Huxley watched her refrain and instead focus on her notes that were on a counter nearby, “Depending on how much we want to speed this up, he could die, Maximilien.”

“Then it should likely be up to our esteemed colleague to set the pace, then, hmm?”

Both of them looked at Huxley again; a test then. He wondered where this sudden need for speed came from, but he didn’t dwell on it.

“You know, my daddy had a saying,” Huxley looked down into the empty beaker, “‘Look toward tomorrow and make sure you get there.’”

Maximilien and Moira glanced at each other during the brief pause before Huxley started talking again.

“I hate my daddy,” He finally said quietly, “Hook me up and crank it to ten.”

~*~

Angela sat heavily, a sigh leaving her nostrils. With no medical staff and already so many agents...It was perhaps lucky that they hadn’t gone on many ‘official’ missions yet. If Jack got his way, everyone would be training until Kingdom come, at this rate. Some, like Lucio, Reinhardt and Lena were itching to get back out into the world, especially now. Others, like Mei and Winston, hoped to never leave the Gibraltar base again.

It was a mess, but what could they expect after so long?

Her eyes drifted toward the curtain that was blocking the view toward the last bed of her medical ward. There was a slow steady beeping of a heart monitor--too slow. Winston and Torbjorn had spent the better part of an afternoon trying to find a way to program the monitor to stop going off every time they attached it to Widow-

_No. Her name is Amelie LaCroix. Stop using that vile Talon codename._

Angela rubbed her eyes and leaned back in her chair. Without any notes or any idea of what Talon did to her, there was little Angela could do besides make Amelie comfortable--Jack wanted to keep the sniper under indefinitely until they found something to help the woman, but Angela squashed that immediately. Other than not having the proper tools, it was hardly healthy to keep her in an extended coma with her heart rate so slow.

The only thing Angela knew for sure was that Amelie’s condition had a signature all over it, one that Angela recognized without trying. Moira. A brilliant mind, twisted by the constant ‘what if’ and without any barriers to keep her from finding out the answer. A pit of burning anger started up in her stomach.

“Ziegler-san.”

Angela’s form stiffened, but she relaxed almost immediately after; there was only one person who spoke like that to her, and then only in private.

“Genji,” She said quietly, turning in her chair to look at the door, where the cyborg glanced around once before he moved closer to where she was still sitting, “You know, you really don’t need to sneak around so; you’ll start to make me think you regret our little arrangement.”

The younger Shimada brother reached for her hand and she sighed quietly as he began to rub small circles over the back of her hand slowly.

“Of course I don’t regret it,” He answered her teasing with his own light-hearted tone, “But I hardly think Morrison would approve--and now with Hanzo here-”

Genji cut himself off and turned his head away.

Angela had known Genji for years now, ever since he’d been brought in, on the verge of death. Moira had her hand in that one too, but at least Genji seemed none the worse for wear, despite having most of his body held together with cybernetic parts.

“Hanzo being here doesn’t change anything,” Angela said, her hand gripping his tightly, “Unless you want it to.”

“No, I...I just worry,” Genji felt at a loss for words and looked away again.

She reached up and he allowed her to remove his mask so she could see his face. Her fingers traced along his cheek and lips, but her eyes were searching his. Silence overtook them, but it was comfortable, each slowly turning over their own thoughts.

“I worry he will think less of you, of me, of…. _us_ ,” Genji finally admitted and Angela swore she could hear fear twisting in his tone.

It was no surprise that Genji would feel that way, Angela thought. Hanzo had attempted to murder him on orders from their family because Genji was fooling around with women before; and while Angela was sure Hanzo regretted it, and that even if he didn’t Genji could hold his own, she also knew that those sorts of scars were deep and cutting; and something she could not heal or touch even with her nanites and Valkyrie suit.

“Then let him think so little of us,” Angela breathed, pulling his hand closer to her so she could press her lips to the cool metal of his hand. Even though he likely couldn’t feel much more than light pressure, she heard him pull in a breath, “And Jack knows better than to interfere or step in; we’re consenting adults in an organization that’s barely holding together as it is.”

“You noticed as well, then?” Genji was a little more relaxed with the subject change.

“I think everyone has,” Angela sighed and rubbed her face with ther free hand, “And that’s not even mentioning that half of our members seem ready to revolt if Jack mishandles that woman in Solitary.”

“Hard to mishandle something like that with those two with her,” Genji chuckled.

“You mean the junkers,” It wasn’t a question and Angela let out a short laugh, “Yes, they’re certainly characters, aren’t they?”

“I have heard stories, and I’ve seen the footage recovered from their confrontation with Ana; they are quite good at what they do, even at a disadvantage.”

Angela thought about it for a moment, “...What do you think of our guest?”

Genji knelt on one knee as he thought about his answer, returning the kiss to his hand with one of his own, “Hmm, I have heard many things from Master Zenyatta about her; an unfortunate life, and yet she still presses on.”

“Zenyatta was traveling with her for a while, right?”

“Yes; and it seems that McCree and Hanzo also ran into her a little while after she escaped.”

It was almost like a line of fate, if Angela believed in such things. Still, it didn’t change the reality of the whole situation.

“Do you really think Overwatch would disband again so soon?” Genji suddenly asked, breaking Angela from her short reverie.

“...It's difficult to say,” Angela sighed, “Things were so easy before; everything was clear cut and directed and yet…”

Genji’s hand moved up to brush her hair away from her face, “You haven’t slept.”

It wasn’t a question and Angela didn’t bother to deny it. She simply nodded toward the curtain, “Besides trying to reconfigure my medical data and keeping up with the well-being of all the agents--without a medical staff, to boot--I also have been trying to do my own research for Amelie.”

Genji glanced toward the curtain, but didn’t bother to focus on it too long, “You need rest, much more than the rest of us; sleep, love.”

Angela wanted to melt at his words, “...I missed you.”

His lips found hers, warm and tasting of metal and electricity, and she hummed quietly into the affection, “And I, you; I’m sorry it took me so long to return to you.”

“You never left,” She breathed in return, “Not really.”

Genji kissed her again.

Behind the curtain, Widowmaker closed her eyes in disgust; and Amelie LaCroix shed a tear.

~*~

“You can’t keep the three of them in there much longer.”

“Only one is detained; the other two are idiots.”

“Jack, you know what I meant.”

Jack signed and rubbed his face, “Yeah, I know, Winston.”

The two of them were in Jack’s office--not the one he would have been assigned years ago as the head of Overwatch, but one he picked for himself now that the base was being brought back to life.

“Talk me through your thoughts,” Winston offered; he leaned back on his hands and clasped his feet together on his stomach, tapping his first toes together like thumbs.

There was only a second of hesitation before Jack took him up on it, “If I keep her in the cell, I have a mutiny on my hands.”

Winston nodded, “Yes, and a mutiny at this point would be the end of our endeavor.”

“Right,” Jack rubbed his face and picked up his coffee cup, though it was long empty, “Then, let her out is the next thought. I don’t know her, I don’t trust her. Even if all she wants to do is be left alone, she has something too dangerous to just let out on the streets again. And what about Talon?”

“I think you’re taking that thought a little too far,” Winston said, “There’s nothing to say we can’t let her out and simply ask her to remain here, as our guest.”

“Another mouth to feed and house, Winston?” Jack raised an eyebrow, but he let his voice trail off.

The thought had circled his head a few times; the idea that you could probably make a decent agent, given some training and some sort of weapon. Controlling drones and computer systems would be a skill that could rival Sombra’s and with Widowmaker here in custody-

Jack let his head fall and stared into the empty coffee cup in his hand; the dregs were all that remained. A bitter thought crossed his head then. That’s a close description to what Overwatch was now. Only the dregs and hopeless idealists were left. New faces or old, it didn’t matter. It was as futile and hopeless as the first-

“Jack?”

The soldier jumped and sat up straight; Winston was very still. They stared at each other, neither speaking. Even their breathing was shallow and slow.

“S...sorry, Winston,” Jack rubbed his face again and tried to play off the moment and blame the late hour the two of them were meeting. Though, no one could tell from in here. The back office that Jack had chosen for his purposes had neither windows nor clocks: a habit he had picked up from his commanding officer.

Winston hesitated for a few moments longer before he tried to pick up where they left off.

“We won’t have to worry about provisions for a while,” Winston said, “Agent McCree has donated a large sum for the purpose of keeping us afloat for a little while longer. We’ll have to make it last, but I’m sure we’ll hear back from my patents before we need to worry about that.”

“Well, that’s one stress off my back,” Jack sighed.

Silence fell between them for a long stretch. The light flickered overhead for a moment--for such a short moment that Jack wondered if maybe he had imagined it. Winston rocked forward until he was resting his knuckles against the floor in front of him. Jack knew, he had to make a decision now, or he’d be stuck for another week of indecision.

“Alright, we’ll let her out,” Jack said, “And I’ll see if I can’t get her to join up, while she’s here.”

“I don’t think badgering her will win her over,” Winston adjusted his glasses, “If she’s really the way that Master Zenyatta and Agent McCree say, then I don’t doubt that she may very well volunteer herself.”

“We don’t have much in the luxury of time, Winston,” Jack shoved his cup onto the desk again and leaned back in his chair, crossing his hands behind his head.

“If she’s not going to do it, then time’s not a factor,” Winston reasoned, “Just suggest the idea to her; a way to bide her time until we can figure out a way to get her off Talon’s radar.”

Jack didn’t reply for a moment and Winston blanched.

“Are we not going to help her?” Winston asked, “She’s a victim in all of this, Jack.”

Even then, Jack didn’t answer. All of this was just a distraction; a growing pile of ‘to-dos’ that was keeping him from the main reason he had decided to rejoin Overwatch. At this rate, he would fall behind and lose all the progress he had already made.

“Jack-”

“Of course we’re going to help her,” Jack finally said, forcefully enough to cut Winston off, “For now, we need to focus on running interference and continuing training.”

“We can’t keep denying all the requests for our aid in favor of training, Jack,” Winston crossed his arms, “Word has gotten out that Overwatch might be resurfacing and we have work to do.”

“Just-” Jack nearly shouted before he covered his face, trying to lower his voice, “Can _someone_ in this place just stop questioning me?”

The stress was starting to get to him again. Sleep was always gotten in short bursts or not at all. The nightmares were too much; but he couldn’t stand the idea of taking anymore pills. Winston was frozen again, his eyes darting back and forth as if he were looking for an exit.

“We’ll take this up in the morning,” Jack said, “Get on to bed.”

Winston nodded, though Jack doubted the gorilla would actually sleep. Jack waited until Winston had closed the door behind him before he let his head fall into his hands. Damn, he was getting bad. He’d definitely be hearing from Angela tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooh, what trouble are we stirring up now?
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My asks and messages are always open!


	38. Wilted Integrity

You watched in quiet fascination as the skinny junker--who you have been directed to call ‘Jamison’ or ‘Jamie’ as often as he’s called himself ‘Junkrat’ or ‘Rat’--took apart one cot, and then another as he played with the springs and metal parts. You weren’t entirely sure what he was doing, though if you had to guess you would say he was building something.

“Does he do this often?” You asked Mako quietly, though your eyes were glued to Jamie’s hands.

Mako made a noise in his chest and you thought it was the only answer he would give until he actually spoke, “Too often. Even takes apart the important stuff.”

The annoyed tone in Mako’s voice made it hard for you to keep yourself from giggling, but you didn’t bother to try and hide the smile that broke out on your face.

“Jus’ a little o’ this…” Jamie wasn’t listening, apparently, and continued to focus on his self-appointed task, “Another pull, and…”

Jamie jumped to his feet so suddenly that you jumped, eyes wide; the objects he presented weren’t entirely recognizable at first, but if you tilted your head this way and then that way…

“Instruments?” You raised an eyebrow and the grin that broke out on Jamie’s face seemed to be from the fact that you picked up on his little gadgets so quickly.

“Yeh, everyone knows ya can’t be locked up without some music!” Jamie said, as if it should have been the most obvious fact in the world.

“Oh, silly me,” You smiled.

The first instrument was larger and seemed to just be made out of the frame of one of the cots; Jamie had fashioned it into something that looked more like a xylophone than anything, and handed Mako the two padded playing sticks (made from metal from the same cot and wrapped lightly in bedding). Jamie took up the other instrument, which you thought was supposed to be a flute or something similar. You had more than a few questions, but the first one was probably the most curious.

“How did you make those?” You asked, watching as Junkrat turned his instrument over in his hands and inspected it.

“Ol’ Morrison didn’t take me tools, did he?” Jamie snickered, “Prolly too surprised we volunteered for this hard time after we been runnin’ so long, eh Roadie?”

Mako grunted, though Jamie paid him no mind as he snickered and chortled to himself. They both played around with the instruments and learned the sounds they made quickly, even as you sat patiently and listened.

“What exactly were you trying to make?” You glanced between the instruments again.

“Eh,” Jamie waved his hand, “Just somethin we can make sound with; ain’t no ways about the fact they’re just metal pipes. ‘Sides, ya jus’ need somethin ya can dance to, roight?”

You blinked and sat up a little straighter, “Something I can dance to? What do you mean?”

“Roadie thought it’d make ya happy,” Jamie answered without looking up, but you glanced at the larger man, who was doing a very good job ignoring both you and Jamison.

“O-oh, I...thank you,” You laughed nervously, “It’s been a while, though, are you sure you want to see that?”

Even as you protested lightly, you couldn’t deny that the idea appealed to you. Even though you knew you wouldn’t be able to dance long, you still moved to the edge of the cot and listened as both men began putting something that sounded like a somber ballad together. It was interesting to hear Jamison blow through the long pipe, usuing his voice to hit the notes he was reaching for. Mako kept rhythm and kept the pace.

“Wow, I never would have guessed you just invented those instruments,” You smiled.

Jamie laughed, “Oi, when yer from the Outback, ya gotta do somethin to entertain yerself.”

Mako grumbled and actually spoke, “It's a hobby.”

There was something about watching these two hardened junkers--both figuratively and literally--admit to liking music and seeking after it...it stirred a warm place in your chest and without another prompting, you stood when they started another somber ballad and moved to where there was more room.

The table that had raised from the floor was retracted now, and you used the space to your advantage. You kicked off your shoes and stepped forward; you raised your arms and closed your eyes.

The somber ballad was like a story. Darkness and pain, twisted together like lovers--spinning endlessly as they tried to fly away. You spun and leapt, controlled your landing and rolled; arching your limbs, you reached up as if waiting for someone to help you up.

You never felt the eyes watching you, and even if your own were open, you wouldn’t have noticed. Mostly because Jamie was focused on his instrument, but Mako’s eyes were easily hidden by his gas mask. Your body moved like it was made of water, fluid and changing shape as the moment changed. There was a language to your movements, and he found himself wishing he knew how to interpret it.

You also didn’t feel the eyes from behind the two-way glass; this set of eyes belonged to a grumpy and altogether frustrated Jack Morrison.

“Jamison destroyed two of the cots,” Jack said blandly, for about the 5th time.

“Oh, he was just being sweet,” Angela tried to hide her smile.

“He destroyed two cots,” Jack replied.

“Honestly, the way his mind works is fascinating,” Angela paid no mind to Jack’s words in favor of watching the way your body moved, even as you started to favor your right leg in a practiced way that reminded her that her scans had found a couple old and badly repaired injuries, “I never would have even guessed you could make musical instruments from the metal framing of standard-issue cots.”

“Angela, the medical-” Mei stepped into the viewing area and nearly squeaked when she noticed Jack had joined the valkyrie, “S-sorry, I can-”

“No, you’re fine, Mei,” Angela smiled warmly at the shorter chinese woman, “Have the medical supplies I ordered finally arrived?”

“They’re in the hanger, but Winston is already taking an inventory for you,” Mei said, but her eyes were drawn to the viewing window, “...Where did they get those instruments? Should that be allowed?”

Jack looked almost relieved to hear someone else make a comment near his line of thinking, but it was Angela who actually answered Mei.

“Jamison broke down two of the cots inside of the holding cell,” She said and held her chin delicately as she smiled, “The two of them were trying to cheer up our newest resident.”

Mei made a face; she didn’t seem able to choose between confusion and disgust, so her face settled on something in between. Her eyebrows came together as she stepped closer to the window. You were still dancing, but it had slowed down; even Mei could see the careful way you moved your right leg. Mei couldn’t deny your grace, however. The slow circles you danced seemed to accentuate the music and vice versa.

Even as you continued to dance, Mei’s eyes slowly moved past you and she focused on the skinny junker who was sitting on the remains of the mattress he tore apart. His eyes were focused on his fingers, but even as she watched, his golden eyes darted up as if he knew someone was staring at him through the glass. Mei almost jumped, but her body froze. She swallowed and automatically a noise of irritation left her throat.

“Something the matter, Mei?” Angela asked lightly; her eyes watched the plump woman almost knowingly, but Mei didn’t look away from the glass.

Mei felt her face burn a little--she hadn’t meant to draw attention to herself and she hadn’t realized she had made the noise until Angela spoke, “He’s just a destructive bully; he knows those cost Overwatch money, right? Rúcǐ bù fù zérèn!”

Angela and Jack both blinked, startled by her sudden fierce outburst as she turned and left the room with a huff.

“What was that all about?” Jack glanced at Angela, “Not that I’m upset to finally have someone talking sense, but-”

“But it’s surprising to see her all worked up,” Angela finished for Jack as he hesitated, “She’s just coming to terms with the little crush she has on Jamison.”

Jack shook himself and turned his whole body toward Angela, his eyebrows threatening his hairline as he asked in complete disbelief, “A crush? On Junkrat?”

Angela giggled quietly, “Oh yes: haven’t you noticed how violently anti-Jamison she is? Calling him a bully when he’s done nothing but fawn over her, avoiding him like he has the plague-”

“To be fair: he might,” Jack interrupted, though Angela ignored him.

“-and all the while, everyone has noticed how she stares at him and blushes from his doting and compliments,” Angela finished.

“Not everyone has noticed,” Jack grumbled as he crossed his arms and turned back to the window.

Angela patted his shoulder, “Well, you’ve never been great at reading women, Jack.”

Jack didn’t even try to deny it, since it was true. His life had always been about the next promotion, the next mission, the next secret to uncover, the next target to expose...Even now, when most everyone thought that Jack Morrison was dead, he was still fighting. He could have taken the hint and retired, but here he was. He had shared his company--and his bed--with more than a few men and women, but nothing had stuck; he was too much of a workaholic for even the most independent partner, too distant for even the most long-suffering ‘soulmate’.

“I better get this over with before Jamison decides to take something else apart,” Jack grunted and moved toward the door.

“I’m going to go help Winston, but be sure to ask her to stop by the medical wing, hmm?” Angela asked, but she hesitated to leave just yet.

“Wilco,” Jack replied without looking back.

Angela waited until the door was closed before she moved closer to the glass. Her eyes watched Jack’s posture and his body language, but he betrayed nothing. Winston had spoke to both Angela and Ana about Jack’s outburst from the night before. Ana was already on her way back to Gibraltar, but Angela didn’t think that her presence would change much, if Jack was going to continue to be his usual stubborn self.

“Jack, just what is wrong?” Angela sighed and rubbed her face before she turned and left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My asks and messages are always open!


	39. Holstered

“Do you understand everything that I’ve explained?” Jack didn’t bother to raise the table, but there were still two chairs that had been added to the room, facing each other. You shifted in your chair, even as he stoically leaned forward and stared at you from his.

“Which part?” You wrung your hands gently in your lap, “The part where I’m technically no longer considered a threat, or the part where I’m still trapped here?”

Jack didn’t bat an eyelash as he said, “You’re not trapped. You can go where you please on the base; you’ll get your own quarters and be treated as a guest. But you know that Talon is still after you and you know that they have ways of making you compliant if they were to get their hands on you and your abilities.”

You pressed your lips together and looked down, “Yeah, I...I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“Then you know why we can’t let you just wander away,” Jack sat up as if the matter was closed, “We’ll do what we can to help you, maybe even see if we can’t figure out a more permanent way to keep them away from you. There’s nothing to say you’ll be stuck here forever.”

Even you could hear how hollow his words were. He wasn’t really focused on what he was saying and he certainly didn’t sound committed to the idea of it, but there was very little choice left. Jack Morrison held all the cards, and if push came to shove, he obviously didn’t care to keep you in a holding cell, this time permanently. You heard Jamie snort behind you, but you weren’t sure what he was giggling at, since he offered no comment.

There was also both junkers to think about. Jamie seemed committed to his promise to see your imprisonment out to the end and Mako seemed just as intent to stay--you couldn’t keep them here just because you didn’t like the terms of your limited freedom.

“Alright,” You nodded and saw Jack nod in response, but he didn’t move just yet. That made your stomach twist in a strange sense of anticipation; Jack was going to say more and you weren’t sure you were going to like it.

“You might also want to think about ways you could use your abilities for good,” Jack said, “Overwatch is still recruiting; someone like you could really help us fight Talon and protect people.”

“Join Overwatch?” You blinked slowly.

“It’d give you something to do, and our goal is to protect people,” Jack rattled off, but he was obviously distracted, “It’s not a requirement to your being let out of here; just think about it, yeah?”

You hesitated, but not for long; the way Jack’s eyes found yours and the hardened color of them set you on edge and made you feel anxious, “I’ll think about it.”

“Go to the medical wing and find Angela,” Jack stood from his chair and said gruffly, “After that, Winston is the one you want to talk to in order to get a room.”

Without any more decorum, Jack left the room and left the door standing open.

You didn’t move just yet as you stared after his exit before you turned and glanced back at the Junkers and asked, “Is he always like that?”

Jamie shrugged and Mako grunted, before Jamison actually answered you, “Ol’ Jacky boy’s a soldier; jus’ stay outta his way and don’t worry too hard, sheila.”

Despite his reassurance, you couldn’t shake the strange feeling in your stomach that made your mind spin with possibility and worry. As far as you could tell, Jack controlled your fate and if he decided to force you to do anything, you doubted the Junkers could do much in the way of swaying him.

“Where’s the medical wing?” You asked as you stood from your chair and reached for the bag of clothes they had allowed you to keep.

“Dunno, but we can find out!” Jamie giggled as he leapt through the door.

There was a moment of silence as the skinny man ran ahead that you just smiled and shook your head; he reminded you of a younger brother, or even a child and it was almost refreshing after everything from the past few months.

Mako suddenly rested his hand on your back and rumbled, “If anything happens, tell us.”

You blinked and looked up at him; your cheeks flushed from the feeling of his warm hand, but his words made you smile.

“Thank you, Mako,” You said as you let him direct you toward the exit.

The larger man liked the way you said his real name.

~*~

Ana clicked her tongue for the fourth time as she reread the email that Winston sent her the night before:

_Amari:_

_I know you have stated you wish to remain abroad and planned to help in an auxiliary way, but the issue that I had mentioned in my previous email is becoming a bigger problem. Something that we can’t ignore anymore._

_We need you, even if it's only temporarily and only to help us get some sense back into his head; Mercy is beginning to worry that a breakdown is inevitable and could happen at any moment. I got a glimpse of it this morning and I agree with her._

_We hope to see you soon.  
Winston_

Jack, unraveling? It hardly seemed possible.

Ana could remember a time in her life when she would never have even given a moment to thinking that Jack wasn’t capable of this line of work; there was never a question in her mind before Winston and Angela had both emailed her about their concerns. PTSD? Anxiety and paranoia? It wasn’t uncommon in soldiers and she certainly wouldn’t be surprised if Jack had walked away from the Sweden base with some issues, but…

She sighed and leaned back in her seat. The small commercial flight was mostly full of refugees who were looking for something better across the mediterranean, but Ana doubted they would find anything except for more of the same. Everywhere was hurting, broken. Everywhere was dangerous. Death no longer cared if you were human or omnic, and tragedy was active in the lives of any who were unfortunate enough to be poor.

Overwatch was more than a need at this point; it was a hope, a promise of peace, an ideal. They couldn’t afford to have Jack crack under the pressure and yet Ana couldn’t abide turning her back on him. It was time to get to the bottom of just what was going on with Jack Morrison.

She just hoped the truth wouldn’t completely cripple Overwatch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My asks and messages are always open!

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy! New fanfic~!
> 
> Okay, so the Overwatch Fandom has absolutely swallowed me whole and I had to write a reader insert for it! Just a fair warning: while the reader is the main focal point, I wanted to write about _all_ the characters in some capacity or another (oh, you know, explore some of my own headcanons, write some rarepairs, all that good stuff :D) so there might be a little jumping around. Its all in chronological order--that is, the scenes are usually in the order of what happened first--except for a few exceptions that happened about the same time. Hopefully its all clear for you guys!
> 
> Comments are always appreciated, and please follow my tumblr: [PurpleFictionMom.tumblr.com](http://purplefictionmom.tumblr.com/) My ask is always open!


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